


The Firefighter - A "The Mandalorian" AU Series

by TheHeartOfAMandalorian



Series: The Firefighter [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Din Djarin Whump, F/M, Family Bonding, Firefighter!Din x NursePractitioner!Omera, Firefighters, First Kiss, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Hurt Din Djarin, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Mandalorian AU, Mandomera, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Mostly SFW?, Multi, Nurse Practitioner, POV Din Djarin, POV Omera (Star Wars), Romance, Slow Burn, Steamy, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27747727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHeartOfAMandalorian/pseuds/TheHeartOfAMandalorian
Summary: When Din Djarin, a firefighter in the small town of Nevarro, responds to an abandoned warehouse fire on the outskirts of town, his life is forever changed.Warnings: Injuries and medical procedures. Omera is a nurse practitioner (NP) and Din is an accident-prone firefighter?
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV)/Din Djarin, Din Djarin & Greef Karga, Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda, Din Djarin & IG-11, Din Djarin & Omera, Din Djarin & Paz Vizsla, Din Djarin & Winta, Din Djarin/Omera, Mandomera - Relationship
Series: The Firefighter [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149152
Comments: 154
Kudos: 196





	1. The Child & The Night Nurse

**Author's Note:**

> BIG shoutout to cchascona (@eatsleepandsing on Tumblr) for the INCREDIBLE Firefighter!Din x Nurse!Omera AU idea that prompted this miniseries to begin with and also to Sheena_Is_A_Punk_Rocker (@sheena-is-a-punk-rocker on Tumblr) for all her encouragement and giving it a preread as I’ve never done AU before and am still not convinced with it - I’m trying!  
> -> I made Omera a Certified Nurse Practitioner (CNP) vs an RN so she could make more treatment decisions and perform more technical treatments on Din without an MD hovering (this way they could spend more time together alone upon their initial meeting!)
> 
> I hope you enjoy! Please leave me comments if you liked it and would like more! Comments keep me going (:

He sighs into his cup of coffee - it’s just him and Vizsla tonight at the fire station. The rest of the town is celebrating the grand opening of the new craft brew pub. It's an otherwise quiet night so far, as are most nights in Nevarro.

“You think this is still any good?” Vizsla shoves some sort of amorphous tupperware stew in Din’s face.

He just shakes his head at his colleague's antics. _It's going to be a long night._

“Don’t judge me, Djarin - I’m just making sure it doesn’t go to waste. Been sitting in there for a week or more,” he gives it another sniff then shrugs, plopping it into the microwave and setting the timer for two minutes.

Din just hopes he doesn’t have to sit in the same room once Paz’s gut starts churning.

He sighs and takes another swig of the black gut-rot coffee before returning to cleaning his helmet. 

All of a sudden, the familiar static of his radio fills the room: “All call for a fully-involved structure fire at Arvala-seven northwest. Abandoned Durasteel warehouse.”

“Looks like we’re on,” Vizsla roughly claps his back.

Adrenaline nips at Din’s heart as he grabs his helmet and they rush out to don their heavy bunker gear. He slips into the trousers and sturdy boots in one fell swoop, pulls the suspenders over his shoulders, then throws on the fire hood, coat, and finally the helmet - all with the practiced ease of having done so dozens upon dozens of times before.

“Definitely arson - what do you think?” Vizsla huffs, finishing his ensemble. 

The old durasteel warehouse on the edge of town was known to attract youths and poor behavior.

“Probably,” Din replies, stuffing his facemask into the pant pocket not occupied by his gloves, then clipping the radio to the outside of his jacket. 

Razor One fire engine sits faithfully in the bay and they jump inside. Din slips behind the wheel, firing her up. He flips on the lights and pulls her out of the station into the warm, starry night. Once clear of the neighborhood, he hits the sirens. Even though it's an abandoned warehouse, his pulse surges, ready for the thrill of containing the flames.

“Chief Karga is on the way - ten minutes out,” the radio on his chest announces.

"We'll beat Chief by eight minutes," Vizsla huffs.

Sure enough, with help from the opticon at intersections, they reach the location in a couple minutes' time. 

"Hell, would you look at that," his colleague chokes in disbelief as they pull up to the weedy, gravelled lot.

Smoke hangs in the air and flames roar, casting a dancing glow on the trees and darkness around. Din kills the sirens, but leaves the lights and engine running.

"Thank god it's not inhabited," Din shakes his head.

They slide out of the truck and start surveying the perimeter. Heat rolls in waves from the crackling corrugated steel building. 

An onlooker approaches seemingly out of nowhere - a short, elderly man.

"A child is inside," the man curtly states.

Din has to do a double-take.

"What?" _Was he delirious?_

"Can you not hear its cries?" the man gestures to the building. "Listen."

He humors the man and listens more closely. Above the roar of the fire, what he hears chills him to the bone. He swears he hears the wails of a child.

"Are you nuts old man?" Vizsla steps in. “Let’s step back from the flames.” 

"You must help the child," the man insists, looking at Din. “I have spoken.” The short man turns away before his colleague pushes him back.

 _Din_ **_has_ ** _to do something._

His pulse hammers as adrenaline erupts through his veins. He lifts his helmet and dons the facemask from his pocket, securing the straps around his head. He jumps back into the Razor and grabs an air tank from the front seat, hooking up the regulator on his mask. He hits the button to open the airflow and then throws on the tank straps to wear like a backpack. And lastly he pulls on his gloves.

He rounds the side of the Razor and opens the cabinet. Without hesitation, he grabs a pulaski and the turns to approach the burning building.

"Are you crazy, Djarin? It's abandoned!" Vizsla holds out his large hand.

"I hear a kid - I'm going in!" Din shouts through his facemask and soldiers onward.

Vizsla grabs his shoulder, halting his momentum.

"There's a kid inside!" Din shucks him off and runs forward. 

_He might not be stronger, but he had always been faster than Vizsla._

He storms into the open side door. Smoke hangs heavy in the air and he can barely see, but he can now more clearly hear the cries of what sounds like an infant. 

“Kid - I’m coming!” he shouts into the burning warehouse.

He's familiar with the basic layout of the building - a single large room with industrial equipment and an office in the far southwest corner. Judging where the cries seem to be coming from, that’s where the kid is.

He crouches lower to navigate where the smoke is less thick. 

The cries continue to grow louder, closer.

“Kid, I’m coming! Hang in there!” he yells out. He shuffles through old beer bottles and cigarette butts - proof of the parties teens threw here.

Suddenly, a loud, shifting crash sounds above him. A rafter breaks and some of the roof comes collapsing around him - jagged sheet metal strikes his arm. He keeps onward, adrenaline doing its job, preventing him from feeling much pain. He’s far too focused getting to the child. 

“Hang on, kid!” he shouts.

The office appears ahead through the hazy smoke. 

“I’m almost there kid!”

He gets to his feet and jogs the rest of the way, seeing as the path is clear. The flames aren’t bad in this area - it appears the fire had originated near the entrance. 

He reaches to the door handle. _It’s locked._

“Dammit - Hang on kid!” he speaks through the partially broken window - he can’t really see through the smoke and grime on the glass. He doesn’t want to bust it open - it will be a last-ditch effort if he needs.

He decides the door remains the safest option. He kicks the door, but it barely budges. 

_Dammit._

He turns to the tool in his grip and wedges the pulaski between the frame and the door. Pushing the handle for leverage, he cracks the door open and smoke escapes from the small room. Sweat trickles on his brow, he pushes the handle again and the door finally breaks open. He breaches through the doorway, chest heaving.

His heart twinges at what he sees:

A very young child with dark curly hair crying hoarsely inside a pram.

_He cannot be more than a year old - left alone. To die._

It twists his gut and heart, more than the metal from the collapsed roof. The small child reaches up to Din.

“Hey kid, I got you,” he lifts the kid and cradles him against his chest. He grabs blankets from the bassinet to protect him from the heat. “It’s ok, you’re safe.”

The child coughs and wheezes. 

_Smoke inhalation - the kid’s little lungs have been breathing this for who knows how long_ , he thinks, panicking a little.

Glancing around, he decides the room is relatively stable and he removes his facemask, undoing the buckles. He holds it over the baby’s face.

“It’s ok kid, just breathe,” he encourages. 

The kid coos gently and coughs. He doesn’t know if he’s old enough to even speak - Din knew more about the latest fashion trends than he did about kids, and that was next to nothing. Dark eyes search his face and reach somewhere deep within Din’s heart. He smiles at the child in his arms.

“Let’s get out of here,” he speaks gently to the dark eyes watching him. He picks up the pulaski in his free hand and turns out the doorway, holding the kid close, trying his best to keep the oversized mask over the child's face.

The smoke hangs heavy in the air but the fire doesn’t seem as intense as before. It stings his eyes and burns his lungs, but he pushes through the thick burning air, following the path he tucked away in his mind's eye. He finally makes it back to the exit, holding the kid close and keeping the air mask over his face. Din coughs deeply from the exertion, heat, and thick smoke.

Paz, with the hose in hand, continues quelling the roofline fire as best as he can. 

“Djarin! Thank God! Are you ok?” Chief Karga jogs over. “An ambulance is on its way.”

Din nods, dropping the heavy tool, and sits in the grass a good fifty feet from the building. He tries catching his breath, and the kid still coughs, but the unadulterated air from the mask seems to be helping.

“How's the child?” the fire chief asks, leaning down.

“Ok,” Din's chest heaves and he coughs. “He doesn’t appear to have any external burn injuries.”

"No one else was inside?"

"I didn't see anyone," Din chokes.

Suddenly a loud, earth-shuddering crash sounds. Their attention is drawn to the structure as the remainder of the roof collapses in. 

"You ok?" the older man asks.

Din nods and then Karga turns and jogs over to assist Vizsla. Din's eyes fall back down to the child in his arms.

_He knows he really cut it close and that he’ll really hear it later for entering the dangerous structure without proper backup, but he doesn’t care. He had no choice but to get the kid._

Soon the ambulance comes wailing down the road.

“We got a young male child, between one to two years is my guess, and an adult male, late-thirties both with smoke inhalation,” Karga tells the EMTs.

“I’m fine,” Din does his best not to cough. “The kid needs attention.”

He stands and attempts to hand over the baby to an EMT, but the kid grabs onto his jacket.

He looks up at Din with dark, glistening eyes.

“Looks like you’re coming after all,” the EMT smirks.

They climb into the back of the ambulance and Din sits on the stretcher with the kid in his arms. The medic puts a proper oxygen mask on the kid. He shifts off the air tank to sit more comfortable for the kid. He can feel the ambulance accelerate.

“We’re five minutes out, have a young male child between one and two years and an adult male firefighter late-thirties with smoke inhalation,” the EMT in the driver’s seat speaks over the radio. They are headed to the next town over with a decent-sized hospital - Sorgan.

He turns his head to cough into his own shoulder. 

“You sound like you could use some oxygen too,” the EMT eyes him as he gets an ECG monitor started on the kid.

“Just take care of him,” Din looks down at the little life in his arms.

The EMT huffs and shakes his head, then places the stethoscope in his ears to listen to the kid’s lungs. He looks at the kid as the EMT assesses his vitals. 

“Is he ok?” Din asks, not taking his eyes off the kid.

“I don’t see any burns - smoke inhalation appears to be the worst problem,” the first responder replies. "I'm going to turn up his oxygen - I don't think we need to intubate him, which is good. He's a tough guy."

The kid squeezes his thumb and his heart stutters. “It’s gonna be ok, kid.”

They soon pull up to the Emergency Room bay and Din shifts the kid to the stretcher, but he won’t let go of his hand. The EMT opens the back doors and a small team of hospital staff greet them.

“We got a young male child, around a year old by my best guess, and an adult male firefighter, thirties, both with smoke inhalation,” the medic relays to the group at the entrance. Din helps pull the stretcher down, all while the kid continues gripping his hand. 

He follows the stretcher through the automatic glass door entrance as a doctor walks beside and monitors the kid’s vitals. 

“It’s going to be ok, kid,” he says to the trusting dark eyes fixated upon him.

“I’m sorry you can’t come back with him,” the short, young doctor with pale skin and white hair holds a hand against Din’s chest. 

He falls to a stop and his hand finally breaks from the kid’s. The child reaches back out to Din - it pulls his heartstrings to the breaking point. He watches as they disappear through the double doors. 

“He’ll be ok.”

He turns to find the owner of the calming voice - a nurse with neatly braided, dark hair in grey-blue scrubs and a grey, long-sleeved undershirt. 

He looks back through the double doors. 

“I don’t think -,” Din suddenly wants to rush through to the child.

She reaches out to hold him back, “He’s in good hands."

He looks down at her, dark brown eyes kind and reassuring. He suppresses the urge to continue onward.

“You're bleeding,” she states, her gaze aimed at his right arm.

His eyes follow down to a large gash in his suit. The adrenaline and his preoccupation with the injured kid had pushed it out of his mind. 

_It didn’t look that bad - he’s had worse._

“It’s nothing,” he sighs with a wheeze, not wanting to bother her.

“It doesn’t look like ‘nothing’,” she searches the side of his helmet, finding his name. “Djarin, please let me at least clean it up.”

She gently grasps his uninjured arm and he’s drawn into her dark empathetic eyes. 

_He can’t say no._

He nods and she leads him to an exam bed and pulls the curtain closed.

“What will happen to the kid?” the question slips from his mouth. _He can still feel the kid’s grip on his thumb, feel the weight of his small, fragile body in his arms._

She gives a kind smile, “Social work will be involved - they’ll try to locate the parents or other family, if any.”

He sits on the exam bed and his lungs seize a little, triggering a throaty cough.

“It was really brave, what you did,” she smiles kindly.

“It was the only decision,” he shakes his head, trying to hold back the urge to cough more.

_He must have inhaled more smoke than he thought - he’s suddenly really worried about the kid who’d inhaled much more smoke than he and into his much much smaller lungs._

“Can you remove your coat?” she asks, gathering supplies from the cabinet.

He can feel his skin burn hotter than the fire earlier at her question. He curses his awkwardness, blaming it on his loner-lifestyle.

“Do you need help?” she asks.

“No, I-I’ll manage,” he stammers. He carefully sheds his coat and gloves and sets them beside himself on the bed, leaving him in just a sweat-soaked white under t-shirt. He suddenly realizes how overheated he'd been and is grateful for the cool air of the ER. 

“Hey I.G., can I get more chlorhexidine irrigation?” she asks the curtain.

“Coming right up,” a nearby monotone voice replies. Not long after, a long, thin arm shoots through the curtain.

“Thanks,” she grabs the tube of antimicrobial solution. 

She pulls up a tray table filled with other supplies to his bedside.

"I'm assuming you're up to date on your tetanus vaccine?" she asks, breaking open the irrigation ampule and then holding his arm over a basin. 

"Think so," he replies.

“Any allergies?” she looks at him.

“Smoke,” he coughs. 

She chuckles, and it’s not lost on him how her face dimples into the brightest smile. It almost makes him forget about the kid. _Almost._

She irrigates the wound and it stings fiercely - he can't help but clench his fists and his chest heaves. He can no longer hold back the wheezing cough that ensues.

"Sorry, I should have warned you," she gives an empathetic glance. 

He finds himself unable to stop choking, holding a fist to cover his mouth. Her eyes fixate back on his again.

"Hey you, ok?" she looks concerned, ceasing her wound cleansing. “I'm going to listen to your lungs, ok?”

He nods through the coughing spell.

She unslings her teal stethoscope and places it in her ears.

"Deep breathe in...and out," she moves the diaphragm over his back and repeats her instruction. 

He tries his best, but is unable to take full breaths without choking. 

She frowns, “Your lungs sound not-so-great. How long were you exposed to the smoke?” She slings the stethoscope back around her neck.

"Maybe a minute or less?" he guesses. _It wasn't very long._

She grabs the pulse oximeter, “I’d like to monitor you more closely.”

_This was not going to be the quick trip or quiet night he'd bargained for._

She looks at him expectantly, but kindly.

He sighs followed by another wheezy cough. “Ok,” he offers his hand and she quickly slips the pulse oximeter clip on his index finger. He watches as she studies the screen, which displays readings she mustn’t like as she subtly frowns again.

“You’re satting in the 80’s - I’m going to start you on oxygen,” she glances at him.

“Sure,” he concedes, just accepting it’s not going to be a quick get-a-way. _It’s not like he had anywhere to be or anyone waiting for him._

She directs him to lay back down, helping move his gear out of the way to a chair. 

“I can take your helmet,” she offers.

His heart rate increases. _The helmet was sentimentally important to him._ He hesitates for a moment, then slowly removes and hands it to her. He watches as she carefully sets it down atop his bunker jacket. 

She offers an oxymask and he holds it over his face with his good arm. 

“If you don’t improve within the next few minutes, I might need to get a chest x-ray,” she glances at him.

“That’s not necessary,” he declines, watching her and focusing on breathing between coughing. 

_He’s really worried about the kid now._

“The kid’s in good hands,” she speaks as if she can read his mind. She continues working on his bicep, irrigating the somewhat deep laceration and catching the overflow in the basin. 

“You’re going to need stitches,” she states.

_Hell, he wasn’t surprised._

“Do what you need,” he replies. 

She grabs a syringe, “I’m going to give you a lidocaine shot to numb you first.”

“Ok,” he looks down as she draws up the medication and then looks away.

 _He’d_ **_almost_ ** _rather run into another burning building than deal with needles. Almost._

"You'll feel a pinch," she warns and then he feels the bite as promised. "And another pinch...and another."

_Hell, how many injections?_

"And last one."

_Thank god._

"I'm going to start, let me know if you feel any sharp pain," she looks at him. She starts the stitches and he feels the numb pull of the suture in his skin.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Besides the stitches - better,” he grunts, staring up at the fluorescent lights, trying not to think of the needle and thread passing through his flesh. _He's at least no longer coughing - the oxygen is helping._

He stiffens as she hits a sore spot.

_Hell._

“I can give you more lido,” she halts.

He looks back over to her, her kind features putting him again at ease, “I’m good - keep going.”

_He just wants it over with._

She continues for a few _very_ long minutes, keeping silent in her intense concentration. Din's mind wanders to the child again.

“Done,” she finally announces. “Eleven stitches.”

“That’s my lucky number,” her monotone colleague next door chimes in.

She chuckles as she finishes placing a dressing over the wound. She then instructs him on caring for the wound, monitoring for infection, and that the stitches will dissolve on their own as it heals. He's briefly lost in what she's saying, admiring her passion. He can tell she loves her job and is highly competent.

“Thank you,” he gazes at her. Feeling much better, he removes the oxymask.

She studies him and then the screen. 

“I’m going to take a listen again,” she unslings her stethoscope. She moves it over his chest this time, and he breathes deeply, thankfully without coughing more than a couple times.

“You sound better, but are still pretty wheezy - I’d still recommend that x-ray,” she says. 

“I’ll be fine,” Din sits up, but it’s a little too fast and he feels lightheaded.

She looks at the pulse ox which displays triple digits.

“Just sat up too quickly,” he reassures, sitting at the edge of the bed. 

She places the stethoscope back in her ears and presses it over his heart, then gently grabs his wrist for a pulse. Her touch and proximity makes his skin flush and heart skip.

 _Curse his damn awkwardness..._

Then his mind falls back to the kid.

“Any word on the kid?” Din asks through the curtain to the no-doubt eavesdropping colleague.

“Not yet,” the almost-robotic voice replies.

“I think you need to rest a little more,” she looks at him, placing the stethoscope back around her neck, worry worn heavy in her kind eyes. "Your heart rate is really high and your lungs might have fluid around them. You really should get that x-ray and I’d like to get an ECG."

He concedes yet again and leans back onto the bed.

“Can you check on the kid?” Din asks her, as she straps an automatic blood pressure cuff around his uninjured arm. He feels the pneumatic grip tighten.

Her soft brown eyes meet his and she nods. 

“I’ll go check on him, but I need to get this ECG first. Can you lift your shirt?”

He about starts having a coughing fit again. He abides, a warm blush blooming on his skin.

_Curse his damn awkwardness…_

“I just want to make sure it’s not affecting your heart,” she explains, wiping areas on his chest and abdomen with an alcohol prep wipe before applying each of the ECG electrodes.

She wheels over a machine, flips it open and connects the seeming tangle of wires to the numerous electrodes. He feels incredibly on display and physically strapped down - but her kind smile reassures him. She presses some buttons on the machine and it prints out a sheet of paper, which she studies. 

“Your heart looks healthy,” she says, then looks back to the other vital screens, “but your blood pressure is a bit on the low-side. I think you’re dehydrated and I’d like to start you on some IV fluids.” 

_Great more needles..._

“Sure,” he consents. 

She disconnects the wires from his chest. She places on new gloves and rummages in her drawer, pulling out more supplies. She rolls a chair over and gently positions his arm, wiping the inner part of his elbow with an alcohol wipe.

“You’ll feel a poke,” she warns just before the needle pierces his skin.

_Hell._

“There,” she tapes the IV access in place.

“I.G., can you watch him for a bit? I’m going to check on the kid who came with him,” she asks the curtain, then turns to check on his vitals again.

“Yes,” her colleague replies, and in almost an instant, his tall, slender figure appears through the curtain.

“Quick overview - this is Mr. Djarin, male, late-thirties, presents with right arm lac and smoke inhalation; tachycardic, hypoxic, borderline hypotensive despite two-liters of O-two for a half hour. Concern for pulmonary edema. Arm lac already sutured,” she relays to the man. 

_Din has a vague idea what she’s saying - basically, he needs to stay._

“I'm going to order a stat chest x-ray. Could you also get his visit started in the system and hang a liter of normal saline to run over an hour?” she asks.

“Yes,” the tall nurse replies.

“Thank you so much,” she nods at her coworker, then meets Din’s eyes briefly with a warm smile before slipping out through the curtains.

After her robotic coworker returns and hangs the IV fluids, Din spends what feels like an eternity answering the bajillion and one questions from the stoic man since he’s not part of their medical system - one of the reasons he tries to avoid hospitals if he can. His only reprieve is when the x-ray tech appears with the portable machine and then positions a thick plastic screen under his back to capture the image.

“I can tell you’re worried,” the robot-like man blurts.

He looks over at the seated nurse who types on the computer. “I’m not worried.”

“I’ve analyzed your vitals, you’re worried,” the tall man states with a straight face. “You needn’t be - the child is in good hands.”

_He hopes he’s right._

“And you are currently in the best hands of them all,” he says, deadpan.

 _Did this serious man just make some sort of joke?_ He looks over at him.

“It was a joke - it’s meant to put you at ease,” he says even more matter-of-factly.

Din quirks his eyebrows and huffs the smallest laugh. 

“Knock-knock,” the curtains open and the dark-haired nurse appears. 

“How is he?” Din can’t hold back the question.

“He has some lung damage, but good news is that he should make a full recovery,” she smiles. “You saved his life.”

Din’s heart finally feels a little less heavy.

“How is _he_ doing?” she looks at her colleague.

“Improved - turned him down to one-liter of O-two, normal saline hung at twenty-two forty-five, and his hypotension and hypoxia seem to be resolving. BP has been steady around one-tens over nineties and O-two sats in high nineties - his chest x-ray was already done too,” he relays.

“Great, can you pull it up?” she approaches the computer screen as I.G. clicks around. Din watches as her intelligent eyes study the image. “Your lungs look ok, just some signs of mild inflammation, but I’d like to monitor you for another hour on room air.” 

_What’s another hour?_

Din nods and takes it as permission to remove the oxymask, which she takes from him and sets in on a hook behind the bed. 

“Thanks I.G., I got him from here,” she smiles at her colleague who curtly nods and walks directly back out the curtain.

He watches as she studies the vitals screen and then she produces a package from her scrub pocket.

“It’s not much, but you should eat something,” she smiles. “Stole it from upstairs,” she adds with a laugh.

He takes the cold boxed beverage and smiles, glancing at the packaging. “How did you know I love chocolate Boost?” 

She looks at him and he kicks himself for the awkward attempt at humor. But then she laughs.

_Ok, maybe he isn't making a complete fool of himself._

“You have a family?” she asks, kind eyes going between him and the vitals on the screen.

“The station,” he replies, sticking the small straw through the foil and sipping the overly sweetened, chalky shake. _Better than nothing._

“How long have you been firefighting?” she asks, her smile making him lose track of the question for a moment.

“Since I was out of high school - for twenty-one years now," he nods. "My father had been a firefighter, my mother a nurse actually."

She smiles, "I bet your dad is proud."

"He would be," Din looks down, clasping his hands around the drink.

“I’m sorry - I," she starts, obviously feeling terrible.

"You didn't know," he reassures, feeling bad he made her feel that way. “What about you? Do you have a family?”

He finds it easy to talk with her now that he can breathe.

She smiles and nods, "I have a daughter, Winta. She’s ten years old and a handful. A tomboy much like her mother.”

He smiles at the way her face lights up talking about her kid. He notices she doesn’t mention a significant other or wear a wedding ring. He scolds himself for even taking notice and reins his thoughts back in. It's that she's so easy to talk to.

“I would have thought you were the kid’s father - he seemed bonded to you,” she smiles, tucking a stray strand of her rich, dark hair behind her ear.

Din’s heart clenches at the thought of the kid again. 

“No, never had kids,” he replies, setting the empty carton on the table. _It’s not that he didn’t want kids - he’s just never had a serious relationship, or really any relationship beyond superficial dates - he was just so shy._

"For what it's worth, I think you'd make a great father," she says.

His heart stutters at the thought - _him, a father?_

“Well, looks like you’re stable and doing much better. Let’s get you discharged,” she smiles at him.

She lifts his shirt and he can’t help the flush that rushes over his skin again as she leans over him to remove the electrode pads from earlier and wipes the moisture residue away. 

Her braid slides over her shoulder and brushes against his chest, “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, looking embarrassed and tucking back over her shoulder. “I need to cut it.”

“I think it looks nice.”

 _Oh god - did he really just say that out loud?_ His pulse thumps hard from how damn embarrassed he is.

She smiles, letting out a kind laugh. “Thank you,” she looks into his eyes. “Your’s looks nice too - helmet hair suits you,” she replies with good humor.

He averts his gaze and laughs lightly, thankful she didn’t take his comment the wrong way. _He desperately does not know what he’s doing._

She undoes the blood pressure cuff and then removes his IV, taping a cotton ball in place and encouraging him to bend his arm.

"Thank you," he finally looks at her name badge, “Omera.” _Nurse practitioner_ , he notes _._

“Anytime,” she smiles warmly. “Well, as much as I’d like to see you again, I hope I don’t see you in my ER again.”

 _See me again?_ His heart stammers and his brain short-circuits at her comment. He doesn’t even know how to respond so he nods.

He stands up slowly, not wanting to repeat earlier events, and gathers his gear from the chair. He dons his jacket and helmet once more. He looks back up at her and she smiles back - he finds himself feeling a warmth spread beneath his breastbone.

"Remember to stay hydrated, keep the stitches clean and dry, and no heavy lifting for at least two weeks," she reminds him of the main self-care points.

“Thank you again,” he nods and then glances at her eccentric colleague, “And thanks, I.G.” 

"You're welcome," he replies in his monotone voice.

Rounding out of the ER beds bay, he spots Karga barging into the ER waiting area. 

"What do you think you were doing?!" his chief grouses, storming over and drawing the eyes of the few patients waiting. 

Din sighs with a slight wheeze. _Here we go._

“We’ll discuss this matter later. Vizsla’s outside to drive you home,” Karga shakes his head. The Chief then turns to the medical staff. “Thanks for taking care of him - your work is very much appreciated,” he cordially addresses I.G. and Omera and she nods with a smile, going back to chart on the computer.

As Din walks toward the exit, he glances back at the doors through which the kid had earlier disappeared. He wonders if he’s still doing ok - he wonders what will happen to him. 

_Who would abandon a baby?_

His heart again feels heavy as he makes his way out the doors and into the dark night where Vizsla waits in his truck. 

"Glad to see you're still alive, Djarin," his coworker's voice booms. "But you might not be for long - Karga is pissed."

"I know," he jumps up to the passenger seat and buckles himself in. "Just got a taste."

Vizsla chuckles heartily and turns up the radio to his favorite cliché rock station before they take off. It acts as white noise, priming the gears in Din's head to churn between the kid and Omera, but mostly the kid.

_Why was he abandoned? Who would do such a thing? And then set the building on fire?_

He's certain the sheriff was involved, but he still couldn't help but think this was a mystery that might prove very difficult to solve.


	2. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Firefighter Din Djarin can’t stop thinking about the kid or the kind nurse practitioner.
> 
> Warnings: Mild mentions of injuries. Softness.

She watches as the reserved, yet brave firefighter walks out the exit. 

_ He carries himself with such a quiet strength, and his concern for the kid is so heartwarming...  _

“His relationship status is ‘single’,” I.G. states casually, breaking her trance of admiration.

“What?” she turns to him, blushing furiously and thoroughly embarrassed she’d been caught looking. 

“He’d make a suitable companion,” he states matter-of-factly, glancing out toward the automatic doors then back at her. 

She rolls her eyes, but the blush continuing to spread hot on her cheeks betrays her. She’s not sure why she’s so flustered - I.G.’s always so candid...just not usually with such personal matters. Although, she hadn’t exactly been the most professional earlier, flirting with him toward the end of his care, and she chastises herself for it. She just hopes the firefighter didn’t think her to be unprofessional. 

_ He was just so easy to talk to...and handsome. _

"I can see it plainly in your facial expressions - you  _ do _ agree that he'd make a suitable companion," I.G. analyzes.

She huffs, reigning in her doe-eyed stare, “I don’t think I gave him much to gush about.”  _ Being poked and prodded aren’t exactly the ingredients for a pleasant first impression. _

“You mended his wounds - this is a positive. Furthermore, his heart rate noticeably increased with your close proximity,” he states.

She shakes her head and chuckles, “More like with proximity to needles.”

“From my observations, that is also correct,” he states, "but the heart cannot lie."

With a half-hearted scowl betrayed by a small smile, she flaps her hand at him to cease his banter and returns to charting. She tries to focus, but finds her mind keeps rounding back to the quietly charming firefighter.

_ She really meant it when she had said she hopes to see him again. _

\---------------------------------------

It’s his day off - he could be anywhere. Yet, here he is outside of Sorgan’s Prairie Wind Hospital. 

_ What is he doing? _

He feels his nerves quiver as he dismounts his trusty brushed-chrome 1954 Victoria Bergmeister motorcycle and sets out the kickstand - if he could strap it to his back for quick getaways all the time, he would. Despite his reservations, he continues over the asphalt and enters through the same automatic glass doors as he did the night before. He figures his best chance for success was to find a familiar face. As he walks in, he discovers the waiting room is empty so he figures he’s not interrupting anyone’s care as he approaches the front desk.

The receptionist gives him a suspicious look. “Can I help you?” the woman asks, eyes dancing over his head.

_ Why is she looking at him so oddly? … Oh, he’s still wearing his helmet. _ He slides it off and tucks it under his arm.

“Is Omera, the NP, working?” he asks.  _ He figures she’s his best chance at seeing if the kid is ok. _

The receptionist gives him a skeptical look. “May I ask what this is about?”

_ Oh great, they probably think he’s a stalker…this was a terrible idea. _

He continues anyway, “I was here last night. I’m -” 

“Firefighter Din Djarin,” a familiar, monotone voice sounds. “Is everything alright? Do you require medical assistance?"

He looks up to find the tall, odd nurse, I.G., from last night.

“No, I was here to check on the kid,” he explains.

“Is he the  _ only _ one you were here to check on?” he asks, reaching into his scrub pocket. He produces an orange visitor sticker already with his name on it ( _D. Djarin_ ).

“What?” his brain tries to figure out what the heck this eccentric nurse is on about, and how and why he had that sticker ready.

“I figured there was a ninety-five to ninety-nine percent chance you would return for a visit today,” he relays, pressing it onto the breast of Din’s jacket.

Din glances down at the sticker and back up at him, utterly dumbfounded.

"You are nervous," I.G. states. 

“I’m not...nervous,” Din maintains.  _ His nerves are indeed sputtering. _

The tall, slender man quirks his brow. “I’m a nurse, I can tell,” he teases in his monotone voice. “Please, follow me.”

Din sighs and follows his long, stilted strides down the hallway to the elevator. The doors open and the step inside.

“ _ She _ is covering a staff outage on the Pediatric unit today,” he says, selecting the 3rd floor. “And is caring for the child.”

_ Wait - does he mean Omera? _ He suddenly feels even more anxious.

_ This was a bad idea. _

The elevator reaches the third floor and doors open. He follows I.G. out and around the corner, approaching the colorful pediatric unit with all kinds of artwork and crafts hanging on the walls and nurse's station. 

Then he sees  _ her _ . His pulse climbs even higher for some reason and he has to remind himself to breathe. 

“I’ll let you take it from here,” I.G. states, before marching back to the elevator.

Din suddenly feels frozen and even more awkward.

_ What is he doing?  _ He feels foolish for even making the trip.  _ Maybe he should just turn back... _

Then she sees him - their eyes lock. A warm smile comes to her face and it soothes every worry in his soul.

\----------------------------------------

_ She can’t believe it - it’s the firefighter from last night - Djarin!  _

She waves, unable to help the largest grin, setting down her patient list and then walks over to greet him. She smiles at the unusual chrome motorcycle helmet beneath his arm and the handsome, heavy-duty leather jacket he wears. 

_ He's obviously a motorcyclist, but at least he wears protection,  _ she muses, finding it only makes him more attractive.

“Didn’t think I’d see you so soon - how are you feeling?” her eyes reflexively flit over his features - she takes in his aquiline nose, salt and pepper stubble, endearingly messy hair, and kind brown eyes. 

_ Oh is he ever handsome. _

“Good - thanks to you,” he mutters in his husky voice, glancing down with a shy smile. “I’m here to check on the kid, if that’s even allowed. Can you at least tell me if he’s ok?” his soft brown eyes implore.

She knows she probably shouldn’t share information - HIPAA and all - but he seems really worried and, more importantly, he’s technically a first-responder who saved the child and he already has a visitor pass. She ultimately judges it to be ok. 

She smiles, “Yes, his breathing is much improved today, he’s even off oxygen. It's almost miraculous really.” She looks toward his room, "He’s been very fussy though. Didn't sleep at all last night."

She then gets an idea.

“Would you like to see him?”  _ It might be bending the rules, but she thinks it would benefit both of them. _

The firefighter looks over toward the child’s room, and with a soft smile, he nods. His reaction makes her smile in return and find him even more alluring. 

“Here, I’ll walk you over,” she offers.

They round the nurse’s station desk and straight to the child's room.

“Has any family come forward?” he asks, eyes straight ahead, clearly searching for any sign of family.

She frowns. “No. Unfortunately, no family has yet been identified. The social worker is working with the county. They’ll keep looking, but if no one comes forward soon, he’ll go into foster care.” 

\-----------------------------

As he enters the room, the child looks at him from his crib with large, dark eyes. They instantly light up, and he wobbles to a standing position, gripping the railing. 

"Booowwaah!" the kid announces and smiles at Din, showing his two front (and only) teeth.

His heart swells thrice the size and a smile creeps onto his usually stoic face. 

"Someone's quite happy to see you," she giggles. "You can visit him for awhile if you'd like."

Din looks at her and nods, then approaches the crib. Little arms reach up to be held. 

"Bwa," he greets Din.

"Hey kid," he replies to the happy little one. He then looks to her for permission, “May I?” 

She nods with a kind smile. 

He sets his helmet down on the side table and then grabs the kid on each side under his armpits, careful to keep the pulse oximeter cord from his foot from becoming tangled. 

“Hey kid,” he again greets the wide, intelligent dark eyes.

“Ba,” the little one stares at his face and smiles. He then reaches out and puts his hands on his cheeks and giggles.

“Nice to see you too, kid - I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he smiles back. 

“This is the happiest I’ve seen him all day,” she says. 

_ And it’s the happiest Din’s been in a long time - his usually lonely heart doesn't feel so alone at the moment. _

“He’s young enough - someone will adopt him,” she reassures.

_ Adoption. _ Suddenly, the thought of the kid going anywhere out of his sight sends a sickening pang through his gut.

“You can stay awhile with him if you’d like,” she gestures to the chair.

He nods and seats himself. The kid sits on his lap, resting his head against his torso, starting to look sleepy.

“Here, it reclines,” she smiles, “Do you mind?” she asks.

“Not at all,” he replies and then leans back, opening his jacket so it's more comfortable for the kid. He looks down at the dozing child, nuzzled against his chest and his heart feels so content, yet so protective.

“Wonder if he goes to a bad home?” Din says softly.

She smiles warmly. 

“Social work will coordinate with the county to make sure it’s a good fit,” she reassures. "It can be a long process, but they really do their best to make sure it's a loving home."

His heart still grows so unbearably heavy at the thought of the unknown for the kid. 

“You know, he really likes you,” she smiles, “you’re a natural.”

_ A natural? _

He suddenly feels hyper-aware of the weight of the child pressed against his chest and his heart seizes - his eyes fall down again to the little life he rescued. 

_ He's seen a lot of tragic things over his years of firefighting, but this - this tops any of them tenfold.  _

He can’t imagine what this poor kid has been through, and who would be so cruel as to neglect him - and then try to burn him alive. Din feels he must protect him - though, he can’t quite explain why or where such feelings are originating. It's as if a latent code of honor, deep within his DNA, is being called upon.

“I’m going to check on some other patients," her voice pulls him from his inner musings. "Please let me know if you need anything,” her soft brown eyes shimmer as the softest smile plays upon her lips.

“Thank you,” he replies, just as she turns out of the room.

Soon, like the kid in his arms, he too finds himself drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

\-----------------------

“So, he ask you out yet?” Lana smirks with a mischievous grin. 

Omera blushes hard.  _ Oh boy, here we go. _

“If he’s not taken, I might ask him out,” Jonathan pipes in.

“Mhhhm, I’m just sayin’, that one is more than a fine catch of krill,” Lana continues.

“And his backside, lord have mercy!” Tamara chimes in, fanning herself with some papers, and they all giggle.

“Shhhhh, you guys, you’re going to wake them,” she chuckles at their well-intended humor and blushes.

“Girl, it’s been  _ how long _ since you been on a date?” Tamara eyes her.

“Too long,” Lana speaks on her behalf. 

“He seems like a really nice guy and I saw how dopey-eyed he got when he saw you,” Jonathan adds. “ _ I’m _ super jelly.”

She shakes her head and laughs, “I got to catch up on charting as do all of you.” 

They lightheartedly boo her. 

_ Oh they were incorrigible. But they were also right. _

She gazes from over her desktop and, for a moment, watches the handsome, kind firefighter asleep with the kid upon his chest. It makes her absolutely swoon.

_ Oh is she ever sweet on him. _

\----------------------------------

“Djarin?”

He jumps a little, ready to answer a fire call. The kid stirs at the movement. 

_ The kid! _

“Sorry to give you a start,” Omera winces, “Visiting hours are over for today - well they have been for an hour, but I hadn’t the heart to wake you.”

“I’m sorry," he clears his sleep-roughened voice. "I dozed off.” He feels deeply embarrassed.

"That's ok, Djarin," she smiles.

He looks into her kind eyes, “You can call me Din.”

She smiles brightly, "Thank you for keeping him calm, Din." She gently grabs the kid from his arms and he works the recliner upright.

She smiles as she lowers the kid, who stirs only a little, into the crib, watching his vitals.

“Hopefully he’ll stay this way for the night shift,” she croons, tucking him in.

He laughs lightly and looks at the sleeping kid.

"Well, I sure feel well-rested," he stretches.

She gazes at him, and his heart starts thudding again.

_ She's beautiful. _

“My shift ends in ten - would you be interested in getting dinner, Din?” she looks at him with those kind brown eyes and a soft smile.

His brain short-circuits.  _ Wait...is she asking me out? _ he tries to comprehend.

"Sorry, I'm being a bit forward -" she grimaces.

_ Oh hell, he's making her feel bad because he's taking too long to reply - curse his shyness... _

“Y-yes,” he stammers. "I'd love dinner."

The brightest smile comes to her face and he just about melts.

"I'll meet you in the parking lot in ten minutes," she grasps his shoulder, before turning out.

His heart thumps wildly from what he just agreed to. He takes a deep, calming breath - that's when he notices his lungs feel back to normal. 

_ That nap really did him some good. _

He turns to the sleeping child. "Guess I have a date to make," he huffs in disbelief. "Bye for now kid," he hushes, feeling torn to leave. 

\------------------------

"I left out a critical detail - it's kind of a potluck my neighborhood is throwing," she explains as he walks her to her car, the sun almost setting in the sky. "I hope you don't mind."

"Sounds nice," he replies.  _ He's not exactly a fan of large crowds, but he'll manage, especially if they're all as kind as her. _

"Do you need directions or do you just want to follow?" she asks.

"I'll follow," he replies.

He dons his motorcycle helmet and turns back to his ride. He revs up the engine, eases over to meet her car. 

She rolls down her window. "It's only about five minutes from here," she elaborates with a smile.

“Sounds good,” he gives a thumbs up.

They exit the hospital parking lot and drive through the small, charming city. As small businesses fade into residences, before too long they turn into an older neighborhood surrounded by mature pine trees. Tall ornamental grasses adorn almost everyone's planters. He spots a pond and large garden plot at the end of the dead end street, before it falls away to more thick woods. 

She pulls into a driveway of a rustic cedar rambler and parks. He trolls to a stop on the street, killing the engine, kicking out the kickstand and easing his ride down to rest upon it. 

"I'm going to change really quick and I'll be right out - are you ok waiting here for a minute?" she asks, shutting her car door.

"Sure," he replies. 

“I’ll be right out,” she repeats, hurrying through the front door.

He removes his helmet and sets on the bike's handle. He can now clearly hear laughter and see a fire roaring in the next door neighbor's yard. He hopes he isn’t too awkward but can feel a social anxiety already starting up.

"Hey thanks for waiting," she steps out the front door, holding a couple large tupperware containers. Her long hair is now half down and she wears a flowing teal dress. 

His breath catches. 

"Y-you look nice," he chokes out, blushing furiously. 

"Thanks," she steps up to him and eyes fall to his chest. "You're still wearing the visitor tag," she chuckles.

He looks down, "I guess I'm already labeled for the party." 

That makes her really laugh.  _ Oh does her laugh douse his soul in happiness. _

"That's a very good point," she giggles.

"Can I take those from you?" he gestures to the containers.

"You can take the top one - shrimp cocktail," she indicates with her head.

He grabs the top container. 

"Thank you," she smiles, "Now come, let me introduce you," she gestures over to the neighbor’s.

He follows her into the backyard - he’s nervous, but not as bad as he’d imagine for a situation like this. 

_ On a date. _

_ With a beautiful, smart woman. _

_ Meeting all her friends, or at least her neighbors. _

His heart rate only climbs with the additional thoughts.

"Caben and Stoke are hosting - they're the couple who babysit Winta," she explains.

He takes a deep breath as they round through the bushes and a large gathering of people appears on a rustic, lantern-adorned patio.

"Omera! There she is!" a cheerful man with dark, curly hair remarks. "Let me take that off your hands." 

"Hey Caben," she smiles. He comes up and grabs the container.

"Momma!" a wild-haired, young girl suddenly rushes from the group of kids and about tackles Omera, eliciting a flurry of giggles from both.

"And who is this man?" Caben eyes Din. "Is that real leather?" he asks, reaching to take the container from Din's hand.

"It is," he replies. "My name is Din," he cordially nods.

"Omera brought a date?" the taller man with shoulder-length dark hair now next to him half-whispers.

"Shhh," Caben shushes his partner. "Please excuse my husband, Stoke - he's already gotten into the home brew."

"Home brew?" Din asks.

"Yes, we make mead, beer, and fruit wines. Just a hobby - the neighborhood helps too. We even make some of it from the bounty of the community garden. We'd have more if the racoons weren't raiding it all the time,” he says, exasperatedly. 

"Yes, those darn racoonian raiders," Stoke laughs.

"Hey, would you like some food?" Omera butts in, offering a generously portioned plate to Din.

"That's very kind of you," he replies, taking it from her, his hand brushing accidentally against hers and he feels his skin start to flush.

"Help yourself to more if you'd like," she offers.

He looks down at his  _ very _ full plate and smiles. "This is plenty, thank you."

The wild-haired girl from earlier bounds over again and clutches onto Omera’s waist, looking curiously at Din.

\-------------------

"This is my daughter, Winta,” she formally introduces her to him. She looks down at Winta, “This nice man is Din, he's a firefighter I met at work." 

Her daughter's face lights up. "Woah, you're a firefighter?! Can I see your firetruck sometime?" she blurts.

Omera feels a bit embarrassed for her daughter's forwardness.

"Sure, if it's ok with your mom," Din replies before she can apologize for her daughter. Her eyes meet his.

_ He's being a real trooper with everything _ . She knows she’s throwing a lot at him at once - the entire neighborhood, her daughter. Most men would have ran away by now, probably already been in a whole other state or even country. He clearly isn’t “most men”. It almost unbearably warms her heart.

"Can I mom, pleeeeaaase?" Winta pouts her lips.

"Sure, my sunflower." 

"Yes!" the girl punches the air in victory.

"What do you say to Din?" Omera encourages.

"Thank you!" she chirps, and without warning, runs up and hugs his waist. Before he can even process, she bolts away.

Omera covers her face to hide her embarrassment over her very enthusiastic daughter.

"Nice kid," he smiles, then clears his throat. 

"Thank you, Din. You didn't have to agree," she replies. 

_ He's so very kind. _

"It's my pleasure," he shakes his head with a shy smile upon his pouty lips. 

She can see a blush extend down his long neck and disappear under the collar of his white t-shirt.  _ She briefly wonders how far it goes before reining in her impolite thoughts and feeling guilty. _

\--------------------

With full plates in hand, they sit at one of the large tables on the patio, and Winta joins as do some of the other families. The hosts, Caben and Stoke, soon join with their plates of food too, sitting across from them.

"What do you do for a living, Din?" Caben asks.

"Firefighter."

"I told you!" Caben says to Stoke. "That's why he's not drinking."

_ He wasn't on-call, but he had to drive home tonight, which was the real reason he chose not to indulge. He decides not to correct him. _

Soon more in the group ask about his line of work and his most memorable rescues. He relays the "typical jaws-of-life in a vehicle accident", "cat in the tree retrieval", and "running into a burning house to save a trapped dog" stories which have them captivated. He feels a small sense of pride at their reactions of awe, thinking for a moment that maybe he's not so much of a complete loser.

After finishing the last story he wanted to share, he tells the group how Omera had saved his life last night, partly to draw attention away from himself, but mostly to give credit where  _ real _ credit is due.

She blushes, "Well, I don't know if I'd say 'saved', but you  _ definitely _ needed some oxygen."

"Oh Omera, you are too humble," one of the women down the table dismisses. "We know you save lives everyday and we're thankful for your hard work."

"Cheers to that!" another cheerful neighbor announces, raising a glass.

"Cheers to Omera and Din for keeping our communities safe and alive!" Stoke announces.

"Cheers!" every adult raises a glass of home brew in unison.

Din and Omera exchange shy glances and smiles at the attention befalling upon them. 

\------------------------

As they continue eating the veritable feast and happily chatting, Din mostly listens to the other's conversations, nodding and smiling, just content to be by the kind nurse's side and in the comforting energy of the neighborhood. His nerves have long faded away having come to somewhat know the kind people around him. 

The kids have since broken away from the table and play tag in the yard, keeping clear of the firepit. Their smiles and laughter make him think of the child and his thoughts wander to what the kid might be doing right now.

"You ok?" Omera asks, breaking his trance.

"Yeah, just thinking of the kid," he says softly.

She places a comforting hand upon his forearm and smiles, "He's in good hands - Ann is on tonight and she's phenomenal." 

He smiles back, appreciative of her reassurance, but he can't deny the small, empty ache in his heart. 

Footsteps trudge up from behind and Winta slides in at Omera's side. "Momma, I'm getting tired."

"K, sunflower," she swipes the tangled hair from her daughter's eyes and kisses her forehead. 

_ She's a wonderful mother. _

And for the first time, Din's heart wonders if  _ he _ could be a father.

"Looks like we should turn in for the night," Omera says to him, breaking his thought.

"Certainly," he nods, a little saddened the evening must end, but he is thankful for every second that he got.

"Caben, Stoke, thank you again for hosting," Omera says.

"The shrimp cocktail and berry cobbler was amazing. We'll save the tupperware and return it to you later on," Caben says.

Din gets up from the table, "I'm going to head out too. Work a twelve hour shift tomorrow."

"It was lovely meeting you," Stoke smiles and waves.

"Yes, it was lovely," Caben chimes in.

“Thank you for having me,” Din nods and walks back to his bike. 

He finds Omera and Winta have already disappeared. Moonlight lights the way and gentle lantern-esque streetlights shine on the quaint street, attracting large, fluttering moths. As he reaches his bike, he feels a little disappointed he didn't get to say goodbye to  _ her _ .

His heart and lungs sigh as swings his leg over to mount.

"Din." 

He looks up to find Omera coming out her front door and his heart lightens. He swings back off his bike.

"Sorry, Winta was really sleepy," she lightly jogs down the driveway to stand before him. "I wanted to say that I had a really nice time." 

Her soft eyes glimmer in the moonlight, and it steals his breath.

"Me too," he manages to reply despite his lack of oxygen.

"I'd like to do it again some time. Maybe with less people,” she laughs. “Wouldn't that be nice?" her eyes search his own.

"It would," he hushes, voice husky with feelings, feelings for her.

"Do you have a pen?" she suddenly asks, catching him a bit off-guard.

He reaches into his inner jacket pocket and hands it to her. 

She steps very close, reaching up to his chest. 

"Here's my number," she smiles, bracing his jacket taut and writing it on his visitor name tag. Her hands on his chest make him lightheaded in the most delightful way.

She reaches and slips the pen back into the inner pocket and his nerve endings sputter like a live wire. She's impossibly close, but at the same time, not close enough, and he's pretty certain she can feel his erratic heart pounding. He gazes into her kind eyes and he’s again breathless.

"Call me whenever you’d like," she says tenderly, and before he can even form a half-coherent reply, she leans up and presses the most gentle kiss to his cheek. 

He's fairly sure his heart stops then and there.

"Drive safe," she steps back, and he finds himself missing her.

He nods and has to collect his thoughts for a moment, feeling a hot, rolling blush spread over his skin. He swallows thickly.

"Thank you, Omera," he replies, then dons his helmet. “Sweet dreams.” He mounts his bike and revs the engine as quietly as he can so he doesn't awaken her daughter

He waves goodbye as does she.

He disappears into the night, watching her ethereal form grow smaller in his side mirror, still feeling the soft echo of her lips upon his cheek and gentle hands upon his chest. He feels like he's in the most wonderful dream.

\-------------------------

Back at home, he hangs up his leather jacket, staring at her number, committing it to memory. 

He sighs at the wonderful time they shared. He looks forward to seeing her again - and besides, he has to keep his promise of showing Winta the Razor One fire engine.

Once in his bathroom, he looks in the mirror, running a hand through his messy, helmet hair and sighing.

_ What did she see in him? _

He turns to see his injured arm in the mirror, lifting the bandage to check on the wound. 

To his complete and utter surprise, it already looks healed. 

_ What? _

He prods around the periphery - absolutely no pain. The stitches fall away and into the sink.

_ That was very quick. _

He shrugs and sighs, tearing the bandage off the rest of the way and tossing it into the trash. 

On autopilot, he jumps in the shower and brushes his teeth before slipping into bed.

But he can’t fall asleep. He lays there, staring at the ceiling. He can't stop thinking about Omera and the child, but right now, it’s mostly about the kid.

He wonders if the little one is also finding it hard to sleep. He imagines him alone, in his hospital crib and tears in his eyes. Din’s heart aches at the thought of the kid being in distress. 

_ She had called him a natural? Was she suggesting he foster...or adopt? _

His breath catches in his chest. 

_ Why is he even considering this?  _

_ He knows  _ **_nothing_ ** _ about kids and his lifestyle isn’t exactly kid-friendly given his full-time schedule at the station that necessitates 12 hour shifts, 10 days every 3 weeks.  _

_ Who would babysit?  _

_ What would he feed him?  _

_ How would he change diapers?  _

_ What if the kid gets sick...or hurt?? _

His mind runs around in torturous circles for what seems like hours. He doesn’t see how it could possibly work, but puts it on the mental backburner to simmer. 

He shifts his thoughts to the kind nurse and the comfort her smile brings. The blissful musings of her healing touch eventually lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Forgive me for the abundance of cheesy references, but I had a lot of fun including some lines/parallels from the show (: More is on its way, but might take me a few weeks to get out...  
> Stay healthy and safe!  
> And thank you for reading and leaving me words of encouragement and love for the story - it really keeps me motivated to share my writing <3 I cannot believe how many people are enjoying it!


	3. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din has a choice to make.
> 
> Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of mild injuries and medical treatment.

After getting his ass thoroughly chewed by Karga and narrowly facing suspension for the stunt he pulled to rescue the kid, Din sighs then busies himself with the numerous routine maintenance tasks around the station. 

"Haven't heard Karga yell like that in awhile," Paz chuckles deeply. "Good reminder not to piss him off."

Din huffs a laugh, checking the air tank gauges. 

"You did the right thing, Djarin," the larger man says quietly but firmly.

 _What? Is Paz actually reassuring him?_

Din glances up from his task and shoots him a questioning look, just waiting for the other behemoth shoe to drop - _an insult or a rough shove..._

Instead, Paz gives him a small, yet respectful, salute before lumbering off to complete his own chores...or raid the breakroom fridge (probably the latter). Din huffs a small laugh of half-disbelief and returns to refilling the portable air tanks. His mind soon drifts again to the kid, wondering how he’s doing, wondering if he's lonely or scared. He knows the hospital is taking good care of him, but he can't help but worry.

“Hey Djarin,” a familiar voice echoes in the bay.

Din looks up from the tanks and a small smile comes to his face. “Sheriff Dune,” he nods, already fairly certain he knows what she’s here for.

“Just had some questions about the other night - the abandoned child you rescued,” she confirms his suspicions.

“Sure - not much to say though,” he stands up from his crouching position and walks up to her, past the Razor fire engine.

“Hey, whatever information you can provide will help," she looks him in the eye with her signature smirking smile. "Were there signs of anyone else on the premises?” 

He shakes his head. “No - well, just some beer bottles and cigarette butts. Everyone knows it’s a hangout for teens,” he rubs the back of his neck, feeling adequately useless.

“What about where you found the child - anything out of place there?” she squints.

“He was in a bassinet - I didn’t get a good look, but it appeared to be metal...it was unique,” he tries to picture it in his mind’s eye. “Come to think of it, it might have survived the fire. What did the fire inspector say?”

“Inspector didn’t find much. There was no accelerant detected, but he couldn’t rule out arson,” she shakes her head. “It’s kind of a mess to be honest. I don’t recall a bassinet being among the salvaged items. I’ll check again though - it could be an identifiable item.”

Then Din remembers something. “There was a man at the scene before we arrived. But I didn’t catch his name.”

“Can you give me a description?” she asks, pulling out her notepad from a pocket.

“He was rather short, maybe five-foot, small build, about one hundred and twenty pounds, maybe in his late-seventies? He’d heard the cries of the child and alerted me to that fact. Paz saw him too,” he gestures to the breakroom. “I honestly don’t think he’s a suspect - he seemed genuinely concerned. But he might have seen more and be a lead.”

“Great," she finishes scribbling the information. "Anything else you can recall about that night?”

He rummages in his brain for any other details that might prove useful, but nothing - it’s mostly a murky fog of the smoke and flames that devastated the building. “No.”

“Call me if you do happen to remember anything,” she nods, then smirks. “And sorry Karga chewed your ass.”

“Hell, you heard that too?” he blushes in embarrassment.

“You could hear that a mile away,” she huffs. “Thanks Djarin - I’ll keep you posted. I know the kid is special to you.”

He nods. _Word travels fast in a small town._

\-------------------

After his relatively uneventful 12-hour shift at the station, he hops on his bike and rides over to Prairie Wind Hospital - he can't stop thinking about the kid.

It's a quick drive, only ten minutes at most from the station on County Road 4, which cuts through the rolling expanse of the prairie reserve. His heart thunders like the engine beneath him as he catches sight of the small community hospital in the late-daylight. Gripping the throttle, he accelerates to more quickly close the distance between him and the kid...and maybe _her_.

Not a minute too soon, and at a much safer speed, he pulls into the parking lot, and parks in the same spot as before.

“Hey!” her voice catches his ears as he dismounts.

He turns to find her. 

_Omera._

“H-hey,” his suddenly nervous lips and heart stutter. He sets out the kickstand and turns to her. 

_She is beautiful,_ he takes in her bright smile and kind eyes.

“Nice ride,” she smiles. “I meant to say something last night, but I was far too distracted by its rider.”

His pulse stops dead then quadruples. _Its rider?_

He smiles, blushing furiously, and huffing a laugh, “Perhaps we can go for a ride sometime - if you’d like that is.”

“I’d love that - as long as I get a helmet as cool as yours,” she gestures to the one still on his head.

He clumsily removes it, a bit embarrassed and tucks it under his arm. “Deal,” he replies and she steps even closer. He suddenly recalls the feel of her lips upon his cheek and his brain becomes as empty as the clear sky above.

She bites her lip a little and shyly smiles, dark brown eyes connect with his - it makes his chest tight and his knees weak. She then glances over to the hospital.

“Here to visit the boy?” she tilts her head.

“Yeah,” he exhales a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. His thoughts now shift to the kid. _Since the fire, when he wasn't thinking of her, he was thinking of the little rugrat._

“I can get you signed in and a visitor pass before my shift,” she offers. “To be honest, I got here early to visit him too.”

“Thank you,” he nods, clearing his throat. _He obviously wasn't the only one that cared about the kid._

\-------------

They walk together through the ER entrance. She is beaming at the kind and handsome man beside her. She'd been secretly hoping he might stop for a visit and almost can't believe the timing... _it's almost_ _as if fate keeps bringing them together._

"Are you working another overnight?" he asks, breaking her inner thoughts.

“A partial overnight actually,” she says to him, then smiles and nods at Donna, the receptionist, as she steps up to the other end of the desk.

“Overnights can be rough,” he replies. 

_Of course he'd know, working as a firefighter._

“They really can be," she agrees, leaning over the counter and grabbing a visitor sticker. She begins jotting his name on the pass. "Although, I have to admit, seeing you is getting my night off to a nice start.”

“Mine too,” he replies. 

She smiles, glad he's not taking her forwardness the wrong way, then turns to smooth the visitor sticker on his jacket. Inadvertently feeling the expanse of lean muscle beneath has her recalling her _very_ forward way of leaving a phone number the night before.

 _He is_ **_very_ ** _physically fit._

Their eyes lock again, and she's soon entranced by the lonely kindness his brown eyes hold. 

_Chhhhhhtttttttt!_ The distinct clatter of a rogue metal basin hits the floor, and before she knows it, Din has her behind him.

“Apologies!” a voice announces behind one of the exam curtains. 

She can feel the taut muscles of his shielding arm slowly relax and he turns back to her. 

“I’m sorry if I startled you...reflex,” he explains as a blush travels from his cheeks down his neck. 

Blushing herself, she clears her throat and smiles, wondering but doubting if fire training was entirely responsible for his reaction - she suddenly finds him even more intriguing, alluring (if that were even possible).

"I can walk you up to see the child, if you don't mind," she offers.

"Not at all," the off-duty firefighter smiles softly, which sets an endearing dimple into his cheek - it only has her enamored tenfold.

\-------------

"Just in time for dinner!" the nurse aide proclaims, setting the happy kid in his high chair.

"Oh, I can come back," he doesn't want to disrupt the kid from eating. Then he looks at Omera for guidance, but she's busy smiling and waving at the kid.

"Nonsense! Come here, give it a try," the persistent woman gestures him over. “I've heard how much he likes you.”

_Likes him?_

"Bwah!" the kid greets him with those large, dark eyes. 

"Hey kid," he replies, unable to stop the smile that insists itself upon his face.

"Don't be shy," the nurse aide waves him over.

For reassurance, he glances at Omera again - this time she meets his gaze with a kind nod that instantly settles his hesitation. He approaches and sets his helmet on the bedside table.

"Here, have a seat," the aide directs. "He's at the age where he should start feeding himself, but needs some encouragement."

He takes a seat in front of the kid as the aide sets a handful of puffed cereal pieces on the high chair tray - the kid's eyes grow wide with interest.

"W-won't he choke on those?" Din is on the ready to pluck them all up before the kid can grab any.

"No, he's old enough - also helps with his fine motor skills," she smiles.

The kid soon picks up a piece between his pointer and thumb, proving her point. His nerves fade into astonishment.

"Good job kid!" he praises. "Did you see that?!" he glances to Omera and the aide who grin widely.

_How are they not more amazed?_

The kid giggles at his reaction and then offers the morsel to him. 

"Oh, that's for you," he shakes his head, but feels intensely special from the gesture.

"Oooo," the kid insists, wiggling his outstretched hand.

"Better accept it," Omera chuckles.

Din offers his hand and the kid sets it in his palm. 

"Thank you," he nods, his heart filled to the absolute brim with happiness, something he hasn't felt in a long while.

The kid watches him intently, expectantly.

"Eeeee," the kid encourages.

"You want me to eat it?" he cocks his head.

"Bwa!" the rugrat affirms.

"Ok, but only because you asked so nicely," he pops the bland cereal puff in his mouth. "Mmmmmmmmm." It dissolves almost instantly.

"Baaaahh!" the kid claps. 

"Not sure who's feeding who," the aide chuckles, along with Omera.

"Your turn," he points to the pieces on the tray.

The kid tentatively picks one up and studies it.

"It's edible." _But as tasty as cardboard_ , he adds inside his head. "You made me eat one - it's only fair you eat one too." 

The kid laughs, which makes Din chuckle. _He'd like to think he understood his joke._

"Eat," he encourages, miming the command.

The kid watches Din with a curious, but skeptical smile. 

"Mmmmmmmm," Din pretends to eat another puff.

The kid studies the cereal again.

"You got this, kid," Din encourages.

He finally sticks it in his mouth.

"Good job!" Din proudly praises. 

The kid happily claps in response. The bite must wet his appetite because soon the pieces start disappearing into his mouth.

"Hungry aren't you?" he chuckles.

"I think you got this handled," the aide decides. "Here's the rest of his meal," she sets a small lidded plate in front of the kid. The top lifts away to reveal an orange mash - probably sweet potatoes or carrots, Din guesses - and diced chicken with gravy.

"Wait, wonder if -," he starts, not feeling ready to assist with this level of a meal.

"I'll just be next door if you need anything," she hands him a small spoon before walking away.

A bit overwhelmed, he looks at Omera who smiles so brightly, she's practically glowing. 

_He must be doing ok with the kid if she looks that happy_ , he thinks to himself, _even if he has no idea what he's doing._

"Offer him the spoon," Omera suggests.

Din offers the handle to the kid, feeling completely inadequate for this task. Curious, large dark eyes stare at it for a beat before his small hand reaches and grasps it.

His heart swells with pride. "Good!" he praises, stunned that the kid can do so much. The rugrat is really making it easy for him. "Ok, now eat," Din directs, pointing at the food.

The kid studies the spoon in his grip, but doesn't seem sure what to do. 

"Daaaa," large eyes then look to him as if asking for help.

"It's ok kid - here, let me show you," he gently holds the kid's hand.

"Dahhh," the kid babbles at the contact.

"This is the way," he moves the kid's hand and dips the spoon into some orange mash. "There."

The kid studies the spoonful as Din releases his hand. 

"The lady said you could do this. Eat," Din mimes putting a bite in his mouth with an imaginary spoon. 

"Eeeeee," the kid holds it out to him.

"It's for you," he points.

"Ooooooo," the kid outstretches and wiggles the utensil at Din to offer the bite, but the precariously-balanced mash slips and plops onto his tray.

"Uh oh," Din chuckles. 

"Ohhhh!" the kid parrots back.

Din can see Omera standing quietly in his periphery, feeling a bit embarrassed at how inexperienced he is for this task.

But he's not one to give up. 

"We'll try again." Din gently grasps his little hand within his and helps him scoop more of the orange mash. "This is the way," he helps the kid bring the spoon to his mouth. 

But as soon as the food is pressed to his little lips, the kid raspberries and the mush sprays clear off and onto Din's face.

Shrill giggles from the rugrat fill the air.

"That is _not_ the way," he grumbles lightheartedly. 

He watches as the chuckling nurse practitioner grabs a washcloth, wetting it in the sink.

"You're finding this funny too?" he smiles at Omera.

She approaches. "You're doing great," she assures, gently sweeping the warm wetted cloth over his cheek and forehead. Her eyes connect with his and he feels his face heat and heart thump hard and quick. 

_Beeep! Beeep!_ _Beeep!_ the alarm from her bag severs their connection.

"Shoot, I have to run, but I'll see you later?" she sets the cloth on the kid's tray.

"Yes," he smiles at her, thoroughly distracted by her beauty. "Thank you, Omera." He watches her leave and sighs.

"Byyyymaaaaa," the mischievous kid draws his attention.

Din looks back down at the small plate of nearly untouched food. 

_Ok, let's try this again_ , he thinks, already feeling battle-hardened.

"How about chicken this time?" He readjusts the handle in the kid's grip and helps him select a tiny chicken cube on the spoon, guiding it to his mouth. He feels like a puppeteer to the most realistic and adorable little creature ever. The kid studies the chunk cross-eyed and Din prepares for yet another projectile to come hurtling at his face.

But this time the kid eagerly opens his mouth and takes the bite. His eyes grow wide with pleasure as he chews. 

"Good job! Now that's more like it, huh?" he smiles. _The kid is a carnivore._

The child now uses the spoon on his own like a pro to pick up the chicken pieces. However, that task quickly becomes far too tedious and soon the remainder of the tray becomes finger-food. Din laughs heartily at the scene.

"You're a mess," he declares, staring at the orange-stained hands, forearms, and face before him. He grabs the cloth Omera had used on him and starts cleaning the little messy grabby hands.

The kid burps in contentment and giggles. Then something smells off.

_Oh._

"Time for the nurse, huh?" he gets up to seek help. 

_He has zero experience in_ **_that_ ** _department._

\---------------- 

_GOODNESS. Could this man be any more attractive?!_ she thinks to herself, alone in the elevator. 

_He's_ **_so_ ** _good and gentle with the kid_ \- it makes her absolutely swoon replaying the mealtime scene in her head. _He's a natural father._

The elevator opens to ground level and she quickly runs to her locker to store away her bag and dons her teal stethoscope and leather clogs. Her thoughts flit around the handsome man as she adjusts the tubing around the back of her neck and then steps out of the locker room to begin her shift.

"What brings such a large smile to your face?" the monotone voice comes out of nowhere.

 _Busted._

She turns to find I.G. - she knows he likely already knew the answer; he usually always knew what she was thinking (he was incredibly keen like that), so it wasn't worth avoiding the truth. 

"The firefighter," she tries to say as casually as possible so as not to tip him off to any romantic feelings she might carry, but she instantly feels lighter and freer for admitting to someone that _he_ was the reason for her smile.

"Ah! Firefighter Din Djarin. Shall I update his relationship status in our medical records?" he teases.

She blushes, a few choked laughs escaping before she shushes him. 

_Ok, so maybe she wasn’t being subtle about her feelings for the handsome firefighter._

"I am glad to see you happy, Omera," I.G. quirks his head.

She smiles. "Thank you, I.G." 

_She cannot recall the last time she felt like this - not since her late husband…it's been nearly a decade. And it was time._

"I despise sullying your good mood," he adds, as if reading her mind.

"How so?" she asks.

"Mr. Bigsby is back. He's in bed three."

_Oh no._

"What did he put up there _this_ time?" she almost regrets asking.

"You will never guess."

_Oh god…_

"I don't want to," she shakes her head.

"A stapler," he reports, deadpan.

"Miniature?" she hopes.

"Standard size." 

_OH GOD._

At least she was only working a partial shift...and, more importantly, she had the firefighter to thoroughly distract her thoughts.

\----------------

"Din," her voice rouses him.

"Hmmmm?" he sits up slightly, holding the still passed out kid against his chest. 

"You two fell asleep again."

He looks through bleary vision to find Omera. _He had fallen asleep again, or maybe he was still dreaming?_

"What time is it?" he rubs his eyes, still orienting himself.

"Midnight."

"What?" _There's no way - that's hours past visiting hours._

"No one wanted to wake you - Jonathan, one of the nurses, asked me to swing by when my shift was done," she smiles. "Hope you don't mind."

A smile comes to his face and his heart beats faster.

"I don't mind at all waking up to you," embarrassment floods red under his skin for the awkward words. "I mean, you are nice to wake up to." He digs himself a deeper hole.

_She probably thinks I'm a creep._

She chuckles, "Well, I like watching you sleep, so win-win," she says with good humor.

He chuckles, relieved she is so forgiving of his awkwardness and thankful for her sense of humor. He then carefully sits up, bracing the kid against his chest as he stands. The baby starts to stir, mumbling a sleepy coo into his shirt which makes his typically stoic heart go weak. Gently placing him down in the crib as he'd observed Omera do the night before, he covers him in a blanket and soon the little one falls back asleep.

"Night kid," he says softly to the small sleeping form, so fragile, vulnerable, and innocent. _His heart feels impossibly heavy that he must leave him._

Omera steps next to him, leaning over into the crib. "Goodnight little one," she croons, smiling softly at the child and setting a frog-like stuffed animal near him. “One of the nurses said he lit up when she read him a story about frogs,” she explains quietly. “Forgot I'd left it in my locker.”

Din smiles, guessing it came from the hospital gift shop, and his heart swells. _She cares for the child as does he._

Her gentle gaze shifts to him, "Do you mind if I walk you down?" 

"Not at all," he says softly, then retrieves his helmet from the nightstand and they turn out together.

Din takes one last look at the sleeping child. 

"I see how much you care about him," she says as they exit the room. 

_He_ **_does_ ** _care about the kid…_ **_a lot_ ** _._ He knits his brows, "I worry about him."

They reach the elevator and she selects the down button.

"You're really good with him," she says kindly. 

The elevator dings and doors open.

"I think that's a generous assessment," he chuckles and they enter the empty lift.

"He likes you," she looks at him as the doors close.

_The kid does smile at him, so he supposes the child doesn't mind him. He also inspires feelings he never knew he'd been capable of - he wants to keep him safe and happy and give him everything he could possibly need, even if he doesn't know how._

"He's a good kid, if not a little messy and stinky," he chuckles.

She laughs and they exit the elevator and make their way out of the stark fluorescent ER into the soft yellowed lights of the parking lot.

“Have you ever considered adoption or even fostering?” she asks.

He nearly chokes. _He had considered it - in fact he’s been mulling it over and over since he met the kid. But he just cannot rationalize it or see how it could possibly work to give the kid a good life he deserves._

“It wouldn’t work - at least I don’t think it could. I’m single and work odd, long hours. I don’t really know of anyone who could help with childcare. More importantly, I don’t know anything about raising kids,” he feels completely eviscerated saying it out loud. _He wishes things were different - that he did have the means._

As they approach her car, she turns to him. “I know we literally just met, but I’d be willing to help,” she says softly, eyes imploring him.

His heart is racing - partly because of her and mostly because of the prospect of the kid.

 _But he couldn't ask that of her. It's too much._ Yet, the eyes before him glimmer with an unwavering truth that she wants to, that nothing would be too much.

“What about the process - isn’t there like a waitlist?” _It cannot be easy._

Her lips pull taut and she nods, “There is, but with connections, things could happen. I’m not trying to get your hopes up, or promise anything, but it’s something to consider, something to think about.”

 _Wait, is she saying there’s a chance?_

He nods to himself as the gears of his mind churn. _It’s definitely something to consider, especially if he had her support. But, again, could he really ask that of her?_

His eyes travel back to her and he suddenly notices how utterly tired she looks. "How was your shift?" he asks, changing the subject and feeling a little selfish for not asking sooner.

"I'm just glad it's over, and happy to see you again," she glances at him. "Thankfully, I’m off the entire weekend."

His blood rushes faster under her vibrant gaze. He wishes he was free too, but he works a handful of Saturdays every year and unfortunately tomorrow happened to be one of them.

"I'm working at the station tomorrow," he says. 

"Oh," she looks down at the ground, almost disappointed, dejected.

 _Hell, he didn't mean he didn't want to see her - in fact he wanted the opposite._ But then he gets an idea. 

"If you wanted...a-and were free...I would like to give you and Winta that tour," he offers.

Her face instantly lights up, igniting a warmth near his typically tepid heart. 

"She - we - would love that. Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

He smiles, "Of course, we enjoy visitors."

"What time works best for you?" 

"How about lunch? That is, if a call doesn't interrupt," he offers.

"That's perfect. I'll bring sandwiches - do you have any preference?" she asks.

"I'd enjoy anything you'd make," he says. 

She smiles sweetly, then steps up close, tentatively placing her hands upon his chest, stirring his already-hurried heart into a fluttering frenzy. He swallows nervously, deeply enamored by her kindness and really _everything_ about her. She leans up, lips impossibly close to his - he takes in the details of her face, the warmth in her soft eyes, he instinctively leans in, lips magnetically drawn to one another...

 _WOOOOOO!_ An incoming ambulance announces, breaking the moment.

They pull away before lips meet, and she shyly chuckles, hand to her chest from the startle. “I suppose I should get going. See you tomorrow at noon at the Nevarro Firestation?” she asks.

He nods drunkenly, both his heart and mind stammering. He watches as she gets into her car and she waves through the window, before driving away. Waving back, he nearly fumbles his helmet.

_Oh does he have it bad for her._

\-----------

Karga is fine with the visit just as Din knew he'd be - he loves showing off his well-oiled fire station and welcoming the community. They serve the tri-city area (Nevarro-Tatooine-Sorgan), so he was preening when Din had asked if he could have visitors from the town over.

Today, the long-time volunteer firefighters, Bo, Koska and Axe, happened to be doing routine training exercises in the side yard. It is actually a perfect day for Omera and Winta to visit with lots to see.

_He just hopes Paz doesn't say or do anything too lewd..._

Waiting for their arrival and hoping a call doesn’t pull him away, Din busies himself with washing the Razor firetruck - the night shift must have answered a call in a particularly muddy area as evidenced by the dried clumps and splatter of mud around the wheel wells and sides of the truck. 

"So, who are the visitors today? Some friends of yours?" Paz asks, rinsing his end of the truck off.

"Friend and her daughter," he answers vaguely.

"Her? As in a _woman_? You have a girlfriend, Djarin?" he snorts amusedly.

Din can't help but blush. He glances up at the clock on the wall. But the heat on his face cools as he realizes it’s already twenty-minutes past noon. 

_Maybe she forgot, or wisened up and changed her mind..._ he thinks, feeling an empty knot twist in his gut.

"Knock-knock," he hears her voice, the melody instantly dissolving the ugly knot, but quickening the rhythm of his heart.

Paz blows him a teasing kiss and chuckles. Din just shakes his head and rounds the firetruck, wiping wet hands on his pants. As he clears the corner, there Omera and her daughter stand in the bay opening, light catching the lovely nurse practitioner's long, dark flowing hair. 

"Y-you made it," he stutters, closing the distance between them. Then he notices the rather large picnic basket she carries. "I can take the basket," he quickly offers and she allows him to grab it. 

_It's rather heavy_ , he appraises, taking it in his hand.

"Sorry we're a little late - a raccoon was stuck in our garbage can and we had to let him out," she apologizes.

_She had nothing to apologize for._

"You should have seen him - he was so chunky and cute!" her daughter elaborates, then her eyes fixate behind him and grow large. "This is _your_ firetruck?"

He's embarrassed the Razor is still pretty muddy, but it doesn't seem to dampen her enthusiasm one bit.

"Want to check it out? If that's ok with your mother?" he looks at Omera.

She nods her permission.

"Let me set this in the breakroom first," he nods down at the basketed feast in his grip. He turns the corner and notes that Vizsla has made himself scarce for now. 

_He was probably training with the others outside_ , and Din smiles to himself, thinking Paz maybe wanted to give him some privacy.

\-------------------

She watches as the handsome firefighter returns from the breakroom. 

"Here, I'll show you the inside of the truck," he smiles, gesturing them over. 

She and Winta meet him at the back of the bay, taking note of all the meticulously maintained fire gear and equipment. It was obvious they took a lot of pride in their profession and it made Omera even more attracted to the kind man before her, to see him in his element.

“Hop on up,” Din encourages Winta and helps her navigate the tall step. He then turns to Omera. “Would you like to see too?” his kind, brown eyes implore.

“Yeah, come on Momma. It’s so cool!” her daughter chirps.

She chuckles, “Of course.”

She steps up and his strong hands respectfully guide above her hips to assist her up the rest of the way. Despite the situation, it still causes her to blush.

 _Oh heavens_ , she tries to quell her racing thoughts.

“Momma look at all the buttons!” Winta is awestruck and it helps Omera rein in her wandering feelings. She's beaming to see her girl so enthralled. 

With practiced ease and graceful strength, Din steps up and seats himself behind the steering wheel, sitting impossibly close to her. She can feel the heat radiating from him.

Reining in her quickly straying thoughts once more, she has Winta shift around her to sit next to him so he can more easily show her the controls. She observes as the kind, handsome firefighter explains all the buttons, switches, and various gadgets to her wide-eyed, curious daughter. Omera revels in how his face lights up and how good and patient he is with answering Winta's onslaught of questions. 

_He is a natural father._

"And this here," he reaches to the cord along the ceiling of the cab, "is the horn."

"Can I pull it?!" Winta practically demands and Omera laughs.

"I thought you'd never ask," he grins. "Go ahead," he encourages, scooting over as far as he can so she can sit behind the steering wheel.

He then leans out the open door. "HORN TEST!" he shouts out into the bay, which makes her jump a little, and her and her daughter both start giggling. 

He turns back into the cabin, looking at Omera, "You might want to cover your ears." 

He turns back to her daughter, "I'll cover your ears while you pull, if that's ok?"

Winta nods and he cups either side of her head. "Just pull down," he directs as her daughter reaches.

 _He was so good with Winta and the boy,_ Omera thinks as she covers her ears, watching him interact.

 _BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRNNNNNPPPPPPPP!_ the truck bellows loudly in the bay as Winta tugs down - it's so loud that she feels it reverberate in her chest and it makes her laugh.

"Good job." Din declares with a nod, removing his hands from the giggling girl’s ears.

The interaction warms Omera's soul, but only briefly before the hollowing reminder of the father her daughter never knew and all the things she still missed about _him_ came seeping in. 

_It's been nearly a decade, but his memory still stirs an ache deep within her chest._

"What's all this commotion?" a man's familiar enthusiastic voice booms in the bay, pulling her from her thoughts.

She turns to find the Chief, the one who'd berated Din the other night in the ER, standing just outside the driver's door.

"Well look who it is! The gifted doctor who patched up my reckless firefighter. I don’t believe I properly introduced myself. Name is Greef Karga - I'm the Fire Chief," he waves.

She waves back, deciding not to correct his mistaking her as a physician.

"Momma is a nurse practitioner, which is better than a doctor," Winta chimes in.

She’s embarrassed at her daughter’s blunt correction, but humbled that she regards her as such.

"My mistake,” he lightheartedly replies. “And this firecracker must be?" 

"Winta," she smiles shyly.

"I heard you learned how to sound the horn - it takes some muscle to do that," he smiles, placing his hands on his hips.

She nods and smiles shyly, hiding a little behind Din in the seat.

"In around ten minutes, we're conducting firehouse training outside if you want to see," he offers.

"Yeah!" Winta lights up.

"Sounds like a deal!" the fire chief declares, then produces a golden sticker from his front pocket. He reaches over Din and hands it to her. "That makes you an honorary firefighter." 

"Thank you!" Winta beams and gladly accepts the sticker badge, placing it proudly on her shirt. Omera is more than a little relieved her daughter hasn't outgrown such things yet - she's already growing up too fast.

"Thank you," Omera smiles at the kind Chief and he nods before continuing out of the garage. She can hear him shouting orders to what must be the group of firefighters outside they’d seen earlier on their way in.

"Want to see the back of the truck?" Din asks, drawing back both of their attention. Winta is nearly bouncing up and down at the prospect of more.

Like a gentleman, Din again helps them navigate the large step on their way out of the engine’s cabin. 

“Thank you,” she smiles as she takes his hand for added support. Once she’s on the ground, she finds it difficult to let go, she doesn't want to. There is a boundless security in his grip she can't deny. They both look down to lonely hands that won't let go.

“Come on!” Winta playfully prods, jumping near the back end of the truck.

Omera regretfully withdraws her hand from his and a warm blush rushes to her cheeks. 

_She’s a 34 year old woman and yet she feels like a teenager with the most impossible crush. Oh heavens..._

He clears his throat, “Shall we?” His kind brown eyes twinkle with a shy, innocent charm.

She smiles and nods and they walk back toward the open bay to where Winta stares up at the top of the truck, a good 10-12 feet up she guesses. 

"Here's the fire hose storage," he explains, then goes on to show them the various storage compartments filled with numerous tools that also span the sides of the truck. Omera gets lost in his enthusiasm as well as his patience with her daughter's rapidfire questions.

“I won’t bore you with all the details, but would you like to climb on top to see the large hydraulic ladder?” he asks after a couple minutes of explaining the various compartments.

“Yes!!” Winta beams.

“Is that ok?” Din double-checks with Omera.

She nods.

“Here's the way up," he points to a metal ladder up the back. "I’m going to lift you so you can get to the first step," he warns Winta. She grabs at the ladder as he easily lifts her.

"Head on up, be careful of the sides," he directs, watching that she makes it up safely and standing close in case she falls.

He turns to Omera, "Would you like to come up too?" 

"Momma, it's so cool. You should!" her daughter looks down.

"Sure," she smiles, and walks up to him. He helps her catch the first rung of the ladder and his strong, but gentle hand rests upon the small of her back, sending butterflies fluttering up her spine and within her stomach. 

"Thank you," she shyly smiles down at him, then quickly climbs to the top. 

_It's a bit high up_ , she thinks as butterflies turn into nerves _._

“Momma, look at this,” Winta pulls her attention to the retracted ladder.

“Those are the controls,” he explains behind her as he clears the edge. He shuffles over. “I’d show you how it works, but the ladder extends up to seventy-five feet. Ceiling here is only thirty feet.”

"Woah - have you ever climbed it _all_ the way?" her daughter asks. 

"Yes, once. To rescue a cat from a tree,” he huffs a laugh. “But the cat ended up climbing down on her own once she saw me coming at her. I don’t blame her - I think I smelled pretty bad after putting out a landfill fire.”

Winta giggles and so does Omera. _Oh the less glamorous parts of a job._

"There are the siren and lights,” he points to the head of the truck, “but unfortunately not much else up here other than the view," he turns and gazes out the bay. 

She follows his line of sight, looking out into the expanse of woodland that dissolves into neighborhoods in the valley below - she realizes she can see Sorgan from here. 

“The view is nice,” she agrees, smiling. Her eyes then meet his, causing her stomach to flutter. 

“What else can I see?” Winta asks, shuffling to sit between them.

She laughs at her daughter's forwardness.

"Let's get down to see the training," Din decides.

He gets off the truck first, and Omera helps Winta start down the ladder as Din spots her descent from below.

Omera isn't the most fond of heights and feels her palms go sweaty as she positions herself to start down the ladder. She yelps as her foot misses a rung and her sweaty hands slip. She falls, bracing for a hard impact. 

.

.

.

But instead she connects against something much softer. It all happens so fast and suddenly she realizes she's in _his_ arms. His lean strength holds her as though she’s as light as a feather.

“Are you ok?” his soulful brown eyes are full of concern.

"Momma?" Winta rushes over.

"I'm ok," she nods, taking calming breaths and feeling very embarrassed for being such a klutz. As the firefighter gently sets her to her feet, she comes to her senses. “Thank you for catching me.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt,” he blushes, shyly looking to the ground and rubbing his bicep.

 _His injury!_ she remembers.

"Oh no, I hope I didn’t make you rip your stitches," she feels awful, instinctively reaching for the area hidden under his sleeve.

"It's pretty much healed, thanks to you," he reassures, putting his hand over hers where it rests upon his arm.

 _He's obviously exaggerating_ , she thinks. The laceration had been a couple centimeters deep at the center and would take at least a week or two to heal enough to allow for what he just did.

“We’re ready outside if you want to see the firehose tests,” Karga pokes around the corner, grabbing their attention.

"Can I Momma?" Winta looks so excited.

She turns, withdrawing her hand from Din’s arm and nods. Her daughter excitedly bounds off to watch the training. 

She turns to Din, "Thank you - are you _sure_ you’re ok?"

He nods, smiling shyly, a handsome blush spreading on his cheeks, bleeding down his neck.

"Djarin, you're up next!" the chief rounds into the bay again and gestures with a jab of his thumb over his shoulder.

"Come watch, if you’d like," Din smiles. 

“Of course. Just take it easy on that arm,” she reminds. _She was secretly excited at the chance to watch him train, but still concerned she'd set back his healing._

As they walk out of the bay she spots three firefighters holding a limp firehose, pointed back at the two-story brick firehouse. Winta sits off to the side in the grass, watching intently.

"Five...four...three...two...one!" Karga counts down, next to a very tall, strong man, which she assumes to be another firefighter.

The water rushes out violently in an arching stream and they aim for the second story windows.

Din stands a little closer to her. "It can take two firefighters to operate the hose. Paz is an exception, he can do it on his own," he points to the large man standing next to the Chief. 

_She’s not surprised - he looks like he could wrestle a rhino and win._

"I need at least another to help," Din explains, talking a little louder over the rushing water. 

After hitting all four of the second-story windows, the water ceases.

"Good job Bo, Koska, and Axe!" Karga shouts and claps. "Paz, Din and Winta, you're up next!" 

Winta jumps up from her spot in the grass and looks to Omera for reassurance. She nods and gives a thumbs up. It warms her heart that her daughter still looks up to her.

_Wow, they’re really giving Winta the full tour._

"You can join too," Din turns to her.

"I'll watch," she decides to save the fun for her daughter. 

Din smiles and turns to meet Winta and Paz at the hose. Omera watches as the two firefighters show her daughter the proper stance and holding technique. Paz positions himself ahead of Winta and Din behind her. Winta looks over to her and smiles so brightly. She's happy to see her daughter having a great time and incredibly thankful for everyone, especially Din, for making it happen.

"Five…four...three...two...one!" Chief Karga counts down and the water comes roaring out.

She watches the joy on her daughter's face as they aim and hit the second story windows with impressive accuracy. Din is beaming too.

After hitting all their marks, the water is shut off and the hose is set back on the ground. Paz gives Winta a high-five and Din gives her a nod.

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced,” one of the female firefighters approaches on her periphery. "My name is Bo. I'm one of the volunteer firefighters, as are Koska and Axe," she points to her colleagues who nod in recognition.

The red-haired woman extends her hand.

"Nice to meet you - I'm Omera, Din's friend," she shakes her hand, feeling her face heat from saying his name.

"I'm starving," Paz announces from behind.

"I actually brought enough food for everyone - sandwiches, chips, and fruit. I figured there'd be more than just a couple firefighters," she says to the group. "Din set the basket in the breakroom. Feel free to help yourselves."

"Thank you," Paz and Koska say almost in unison, then beeline to the bay and the others follow with words of gratitude.

"She's a keeper," Bo says as she slaps Din on his behind and then keeps walking past. 

Omera blushes, stifling a surprised chuckle.

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head, "Sorry, Bo can be a bit gruff," he explains.

"I see my fair share of gruff in the ER, believe me. Except it's usually from patients," she chuckles. Winta thankfully didn't see that as she's already following Paz to get a sandwich.

"Thank you," Din says to her as they walk into the bay, "the meal for everyone is very kind."

She feels like she's glowing, incredibly happy that the gesture was well-received. 

After the group ahead selects what they want, she and Din grab their food from the basket, and from the looks of it, she had prepared plenty with enough for leftovers, which sparks a feeling of pride. Din suggests they eat outside as the small break room is soon very busy and loud with the full crew inside. 

“Thanks again Omera!” the Chief nods and everyone lifts their beverages in reverence.

She smiles and nods, then turns to follow Din and Winta, to the picnic bench beneath mature oak trees. He brushes away the fallen acorns peppering the table and they settle in. Omera sits next to him and Winta across from them.

"This looks great," he smiles, starting to unwrap the sandwich. "Thank you."

"Momma makes the best sandwiches," Winta says around a large mouthful, having already dug into her portion. Omera gives her lighthearted, but scolding look as a reminder to not talk with her mouth full. "Sorry," she apologizes.

The radio on his belt suddenly crackles: "Ten-fifty four. Loose cattle disrupting traffic on County Road Four, about a half-mile north of Blurr Drive. Police requesting immediate fire station personnel backup." 

“I’m so sorry,” he grimaces, setting down his untouched sandwich and jumping up from the table. “This might take awhile. If you want to leave when you're done, please feel free.”

“We’ll save you your food,” she assures.

"Thank you!" he shouts over his shoulder as he runs back to the bay.

“Be safe!” she yells back. 

From where her and her daughter sit, they can see him and the others don the gear so very fast, which thoroughly impresses them. The firefighters quickly jump into the firetruck and off they go, lights blinking. Then the sirens start once they clear the immediate area.

“He’s so cool, Momma,” Winta beams, taking another bite from her sandwich. "I like him."

She smiles. “I like him too,” she admits, looking at her daughter, and they both giggle. 

\-------------------------

They had decided to wait for an hour and then leave if he wasn't back by then. She had placed the leftovers carefully in their fridge and labeled Din’s food. Her and Winta chatted about her week at school and the raccoons wreaking havoc on the gardens, but now that the hour has come and passed, she decides it’s time to head back to the car. Just as Omera reaches for the car door handle, the firetruck rounds the corner and her heart is light again.

She smiles and watches as they pull into the bay. She doesn't want to interrupt and gives them some time to situate, explaining to Winta that they’re probably exhausted.

"You're still here?" Din soon appears in the bay opening, looking a little stiff.

"We were just about to leave," she smiles approaching him, happy they didn't leave. Winta follows, then holds onto her waist.

"We would have been gone much longer if the ranch hands hadn't come and helped," Koska adds, before turning back into the bay, “I’m gonna reel in the hose, Chief!”

"Lucky the horn didn’t penetrate when it charged you," Paz adds from behind Din.

Din subtly grimaces.

"Wait, it hit you?" Omera is shocked, looking him over.

"Used a rope to help corral one of the loose bulls," Axe says. "It was not happy."

"That bunker gear isn't exactly a set of armor when it comes to a ton of angry muscle," Bo chimes in, setting up her gear.

"It’s nothing, the bunker gear held up,” he pats his jacket.

“Let me take a look,” she fears he's more injured than he's letting on. _Blunt force trauma can be serious._

Paz approaches. “Winta, wanna see the break room again?” he asks, her daughter still clinging to her side. 

Winta looks up to her for reassurance and Omera nods.

“Mr. & Mrs. Frock and their many kids made us some cookies. I bet you can’t eat more than me,” the large firefighter instigates a challenge with Winta.

“Nuh uh, I can eat more!” she retorts and follows Paz to the breakroom.

Omera is grateful for his distraction. The others have disappeared too, leaving just her and Din in the bay. 

“Please let me take a look,” she implores him.

He sighs, and she can see a nervous swallow. He finally nods, grunting as he shucks of the jacket and hangs it up in his open locker.

“Is there a place I can have you sit or lay down?” 

“Bunk room,” he points to the door just past the lockers. She follows him through the doorway and flips on the light. He eases himself to sit on the bed, clearly uncomfortable.

“Can I lift your shirt?” she asks.

He nods.

She slowly raises the thin material and finds angry bruising on his left III-XII ribs. Her heart aches at the sight.

“Oh Din,” she hushes. “You could have broken ribs and internal bleeding,” she assesses.

“It’s fine,” he tries his best to reassure. “I can breathe fine.”

“Do you have an EMT kit and ice packs somewhere?”

“Kit in the Razor - the truck - behind the passenger seat. Black bag. Ice pack in the breakroom fridge,” he replies with stifled breath. 

“You really should go to a hospital,” she tries to persuade him.

He stubbornly shakes his head. She sighs, turning out the room and opens the heavy firetruck door, hopping inside. The EMT bag is just where he said it would be. She then hops out, bag around her shoulder, and enters the breakroom, finding Winta on the sofa eating cookies with Paz and Koska and watching some obnoxious monster truck rally.

“How is he?” Paz asks, turning down the volume.

“I think he's ok, but I want to make sure,” she says to him, reaching into the freezer for ice packs and setting them in the bag. She then looks at her daughter, “You doing ok, sunflower?”

Winta nods, but a slightly worried look rests on her face. 

“Din’s going to be ok,” Omera says, then grabs his uneaten sandwich from earlier and a water bottle from the fridge. She quickly returns to the bunk room and finds him sitting patiently just where she’d left him.

“I’m going to see if there’s anything noticeably out of place,” she explains. “If I do, I’m taking you to the ER and there will be no discussion otherwise.” She sets the ground rules.

He looks up at her, a little befuddled, but nods. 

_He needed some tough love right now._

She opens the bag and quickly finds a stethoscope, placing it into her ears. She sits next to him on the bed and places the diaphragm on his chest, which makes him jolt a little. 

_It was extra cold from the ice packs._

"Sorry,” she apologizes. 

“Take a deep breath," she directs, intently listening for the faint shifting sounds of rib fractures, but thankfully none are appreciated. 

She notes his chest expands fully and equally. He's tachycardic (rapid heart rate), which isn't unusual and probably due to pain. But as she spies the blush spreading down his bare, muscled chest, she can’t help but think of I.G.’s words: _The heart can't lie._

She feels herself starting to blush as well and removes the stethoscope from her ears, reflexively slinging it around her neck.

She clears her throat, "You're very lucky, it's probably just bad bruising. Can you lay back? I just want to check that you’re not bleeding internally by feeling on your abdomen.”

He reclines onto the bed, grimacing slightly. She palpates his abdomen to ensure it's not rigid from internal bleeding and thankfully it’s soft and nontender judging by his lack of grimacing. 

“I’m going to check your blood pressure.”

He doesn’t protest, so she retrieves the manual sphygmomanometer (blood pressure cuff) from the bag, strapping it around his arm. She situates the stethoscope underneath as she squeezes the pump then slowly releases the pressure to obtain the reading. His blood pressure is slightly elevated, but nothing for concern given he’s obviously in pain. But as she unstraps the cuff, she suddenly notices there’s no wound on his arm from the other night. 

_What?_

_Was she going crazy? Was it his other arm?_ She checks the other one, feeling with her fingertips.

"Stitches just fell out the other night," he states.

She runs her hand over the skin in disbelief. "I-I have _never_ seen anyone heal so quickly."

"I've never healed that quickly before."

She's eerily intrigued. _What is going on? It’s impossible._

His hand reaches to hers and brings her attention back to the present. 

“I-I can’t explain it either. I thought I was crazy...or that you just really had a healing touch,” he tries to make light of the mystery, grimacing as he huffs a stunted laugh.

She smiles, getting back on track. She grabs the ice packs and wraps them in his shirt before applying them gently to the worst area of bruising.

“Ice the area for up to twenty minutes each hour for the first few days. Don’t wrap your ribs. If you start experiencing difficulty breathing and or severe pain, go to the ER immediately,” she directs.

She locates some ibuprofen along with his sandwich and water bottle in the bag. “Here, you should eat something before you take ibuprofen. Never take NSAIDs on an empty stomach, unless you want an ulcer."

He accepts the sandwich, water bottle and pills.

She continues, "You can start with two pills, but then only take one pill every six hours thereafter. It should help reduce swelling and pain.”

"Thank you," he smiles, reaching to her hand. She looks at him, that handsome dimple settling into his cheek and finds herself smiling too.

"This one could beat me in an eating contest," Paz’ voice chuckles behind her and she turns to find him with a giggling Winta in the doorway. “You doing ok, Djarin?” his colleague asks.

“Yeah, thanks to Omera,” he replies, withdrawing his hand.

She blushes and unslings the stethoscope to place back inside the bag.

“Is Din going to be ok, Momma?” Winta asks, looking worried.

“Yes, he’s just fine,” she affirms. 

Winta walks up to the edge of the bed and leans over, carefully giving Din a half-hug to avoid the injury. “I hope you feel better. Do what my mom says and you’ll be ok.” 

Omera chuckles, slightly embarrassed, but very touched that her daughter thinks so highly of her.

“We should let him rest,” she says to her daughter.

\------------------------

“Thank you for the fun day!” Winta waves to Paz and him as she exits the room. He waves back.

“Thank you, again,” Omera smiles at him, then glances at Paz. 

"Thank you," Din nods, watching as the nurse practitioner disappears out the door.

_She really is an incredible and kind person._

Paz chuckles. "Those are some A-plus heart-eyes, Djarin. Didn't think you had it in you," he stalks toward the door, then stops in the doorway, head turned over his shoulder. "She's _leagues_ out of your league, by the way."

He blushes deeply. _Yes she is._ But for some reason, she keeps on seeing him.

_He is undoubtedly lovesick._

\--------------------------

After spending the night at the station nursing his injury as Omera directed, Din decides to visit the kid the next day - it's his day off. As he approaches the hospital, he remembers Omera is off and his heart sinks slightly beneath his bruised ribs. 

He walks through the ER entrance and toward the reception desk.

“Firefighter Din Djarin, how are you?” I.G. pops out of nowhere and places a visitor sticker on him. 

He involuntarily hisses as the nurse presses his injured chest.

“I am sorry, did I hurt you?” he asks.

“Bruised ribs,” he explains with a grunt.

“I can take a look,” the man’s kind, but calculating eyes shift over his torso.

“Thanks I.G., but Omera already did,” he assures.

“Oh, good. I trust she did a thorough job,” he replies. 

_Did he detect a small sly smile?_

“Thanks I.G.,” he blushes at the tall, eccentric man and makes his way to the elevator before more awkwardness can befall him. 

He takes it up to the third floor and exits, rounding to the colorful pediatric unit. As soon as he enters, a frazzled-looking nurse holding the crying kid comes out of the room and quickly spots him. 

“Oh thank god you’re here. Please help him sleep!” she exhales, patting the crying rugrat who lies against her shoulder.

As soon as the kid sees Din, he instantly stops crying.

"He's been wailing for an hour," she sighs. “Didn’t sleep at all last night per report.”

"Told ya he likes him," another nurse chimes in from behind the nurse’s station.

Din's bruised heart can't help but bloom with an ounce of pride. The frazzled nurse hands him the now smiling kid.

"Hey kid,” he grunts and grimaces as the child accidentally knees his ribs. He shifts him to the other side, juggling his helmet. “You giving them a hard time?" 

"Bwa," he admits. 

“You look like you’re in pain. Are you ok?” his nurse asks.

“Just a bruise,” he reassures.

“Let me grab you an ice pack,” she insists, turning to fetch it before he can even decline.

Large dark eyes look up at him, a little sad but happy to see him. _It’s like the kid can sense he doesn’t feel well._

“I’m ok kid, I promise,” he says. “I think some relaxation will do us both some good.”

He enters the room, finding some Little Golden Books stacked on the bedside table. He sets down his helmet, then sits down in the recliner, careful of his ribs. 

“How about a story?” he asks the quiet kid.

“Yaaaa,” the kid agrees.

He selects one about some Star Wars show. 

“Here’s an ice pack,” the nurse comes in and hands it to him.

“Thank you," he accepts it and places it over his ribs.

"Bwa," the kid reaches to his side.

"I'm ok," he reassures, then holds up the book. It distracts the kid and he starts reading, drawing parallels between him and the kid and the characters inside. It makes him smile as the kid reaches to point at the illustrations and babble nonsense, which he agrees with.

“Hello, are you Din Djarin?” a strong voice suddenly interrupts storytime.

He looks up to find a dark-haired woman in the doorway.

“Yes,” he replies, setting down the book.

“My name is Thea Armada, I work with the county.” 

Din’s bruised heart suddenly feels completely crushed. _She was here because the kid has been adopted or parents have been located..._

“So this is the one who was found amidst such destruction?" She steps closer, studying the child for a moment and giving a stoic grin. Curious eyes watch her intently.

She continues, "I’m here because we have received numerous recommendations from the hospital staff - they speak very highly of you and your unique bond with the child.”

Din isn’t sure where this is going, but his heart expands with hope.

“Our child psychologist has deemed this a unique situation, and I am offering you the opportunity to foster the child once he discharges. If you are interested, there will be a two-week trial period and daily visits to see if everything is going well. Would you be interested?”

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation.

She explains the general process and it has his head spinning.

“Here is the paperwork. Once you have it completed, you can return to the social worker here on the unit and we can have it processed. We have preemptively completed a background check so everything should go smoothly.”

He accepts the formidable stack of forms.

“The physicians say he should be ready to discharge by Thursday," she adds.

 _That’s only four days from now_... he thinks, causing his heart to leap.

“If you do not have the paperwork filled out by then, the child will be placed with another foster family. My number is on the top form if you have any other questions." She smiles, "Until he is adopted, you are as his father.”

And just as soon as she arrives, she disappears.

Before Din can even catch up to his runaway thoughts, a nurse comes in, holding a meal tray. "Dinner time," he smiles as he sets in on the high chair, revealing two lidded meals. "We ordered something for you too." 

"Thank you," he replies, feeling so thankful to the staff.

"You'll make a great foster parent," the nurse says before walking out.

 _Was everyone behind this act of generosity?_ The kid turns to Din and coos happily.

It makes his heart swell - he doesn't know if he'll be great, but he'll do his best.

"Time to eat, you little rugrat?" he smiles, feeling both overwhelmed but elated.

\---------------------------

After assisting the kid with his meal - which went more smoothly this time around - he wipes the messy face and hands with a cloth. Din had even managed a few bites from his own meal as the kid mostly fed himself.

“Alright, how about another story?” he asks the sated kid.

“Dis,” the kid reaches to the same one as before.

“Ok, this one again,” he smiles, picking it up.

He begins reading the book, and about halfway through, the little one falls asleep. With heavy eyelids himself, he sets the book off to the side and soon follows the kid into slumber.

\----------------------------

"Good evening, Omera."

“Hello I.G.," she smiles at her tireless colleague - by the way he stares, she can tell that he has something more to say than just ‘hello’. 

He strides closer. "Firefighter Din Djarin is resting with the child - Tamara had requested that you check on them," he relays the message, quirking his head.

 _Din is here?!_ She can’t contain the stupid happy grin that springs upon her face. She had secretly hoped he would be, since the nurses upstairs had really bent the visitor policy for him the previous couple days. They had all raved about how good he was with the boy - they even started calling the child “the firefighter's boy”.

"Thanks I.G.!" she says to the tall nurse before she jogs to the locker room - there’s some time to spare before her shift, so after she sets away her bag and slips on her teal clogs and stethoscope, she runs to wake up Din. 

“Hey Omera,” one of the nighttime peds nurses at the station greets her. “They’re both asleep.”

“Thanks Hal,” she nods - it was no longer a secret that Omera was sweet on the boy and his rescuer.

When she enters the room, she is so enamored by the sight, she almost doesn't have it in her to wake him. He is so unbelievably cute with the kid on his chest. She watches as his chest rises and falls evenly, which quells her concern about the injury from the day before.

“Din,” she softly says his name.

“Hmmmm?” his eyes flutter open and then find her. “Omera.”

She smiles, noticing a blush heating his handsome face. The kid barely stirs, clearly conked out.

“I thought I’d come wake you before my nightshift - it’s almost eleven,” she says, watching him.

He looks down at the sleepy kid on his chest and Omera almost cannot contain the feelings she’s having. 

“How are your ribs?” she asks.

He shifts in the chair, testing out his side, and surprisingly, he shows no signs of stiffness or pain.

“They feel great actually,” he sits up and moves the sleepy kid to crib, tucking him. "Iced it as you directed."

He lifts his shirt to check and what Omera sees she cannot believe. She reaches to touch where the large, angry bruise had taken residence just the day before. 

_It's healed. Completely healed._

“I agreed to foster the kid,” Din blurts, lowering his shirt.

“What?” she looks up at him, now completely distracted from his mysterious rapid-healing abilities.

_He looks completely overwhelmed._

"Someone from the county offered a two-week fostering trial," he walks over to the night table and picks up a thick stack of papers.

“Wow, Din, that is fantastic!" _The staff recommendations actually worked!!_ she smiles to herself.

"It is - it's more than I could have ever imagined...I-I just…," he takes a breath and sighs, "I-I don't exactly know everything I should about kids or have supplies...or childcare."

He starts looking a little panicked, his nose flaring and running a hand through his endearingly tousled hair.

She rests her hand upon his shoulder and his worried eyes meet hers.

"It’s a big step, but I know you will do great," she reassures. "I will help if you need anything.”

"I couldn't ask that of you," he shakes his head and looks down to the ground.

"You aren't," she smiles warmly, reaching for his hand, "I'm offering."

Her fingers gently envelop his, feeling their warm and calloused strength, but also the tremble of uncertainty. She watches as he looks down to her touch and then meets her eyes. 

She smiles. "You're not alone." 

He nods and squeezes her hand gently in recognition.

"Plus, I happen to know some great child sitters if you're interested," she adds.

"I-I don't know w-what to say," he stutters.

"There is nothing you need to say."

He huffs a laugh, and nods. Sincere brown eyes meet hers. "Thank you, Omera." 

_She just needed him to know that he isn't alone._

\----------------

After saying good night to the sleeping kid, they walk together toward the elevator, her hand still within his. She feels like a lifeline, an anchor of support in this exciting, but immensely intimidating decision.

As the elevator doors close, he realizes they're alone. _Together._ She looks at him and his eyes drink in hers.

_She's so very kind. And smart. And beautiful._

She moves so they're face-to-face. He finds himself paralyzed, stunned by her. She leans up and gives him a kiss on the cheek, a kiss that nearly winds him.

 _Ding!_ the elevator announces, and her lips part from his cheek.

“I’m just a call away,” she says before exiting the elevator to make her shift.

"Th-thank you, Omera," he stammers, but she's out of earshot by the time his trembling lips can manage the words.

As he walks through the somewhat busy ER, his thoughts swim in the swift river of his veins - turbulence created by her kiss and his earlier decision. He feels the weight of the foster parent paperwork tucked in his arm - a great responsibility he vows to undertake. The soft yellow lights of the parking lot envelop him as well as the cool night air. 

He takes a deep nourishing breath. Once at his bike, he dons his helmet, and places the forms in a saddlebag. His mind remains befuddled by the kind nurse and the kid. 

_He has a lot to get in order, but he will figure it out tomorrow._ And it feels so much less of a monumental task just knowing Omera is willing to help. He mounts the bike, revs the engine, and rides into the night - a night that feels much less lonely than most, a night that feels hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so very much for reading & happy holidays! I hope you are still enjoying the story (and that it provides some comfort now that Season 2 is over). Chapter 4 should be out by the end of January.  
> Stay healthy & safe <3


	4. The Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din has an eerie revelation.

He stares at the two-day old visitor sticker in his hand - more specifically, the ten digit number _she_ had written upon it, along with her name, a name she'd written over his heart. He thinks back to the night on Sanctuary Road, where they stood in front of _her_ home, and how she'd kissed him. He can still feel the memory of her lips upon his cheek.

It makes his stoic heart flutter - _she_ makes it falter in a way it has never done before. Surely she had heard proof of that the day before, when she was assessing him after the accident - his heart had been pounding, but not entirely from pain. No - it was mostly because of her. He blushes, thinking of how very awkward he is and just hopes she doesn't think him a nervous fool. He couldn't deny his feelings for her, but he found it difficult to outrightly admit. Surely she knew his feelings.

She was so kind and trusting, and to a man she barely knew. He still cannot fathom what she sees in him, let alone her willingness to help with the kid. 

Between her and the child, his heart and thoughts are fully occupied. 

He looks back down to the stack of foster papers he'd started on, only having made it a fraction of the way through before coming upon the section regarding secondary childcare. He realizes he doesn't have a solid plan for daycare when he's at work, but Omera had suggested she did.

He looks again to her number in his hand. She had instructed him to call her, but maybe he’d text in case she was still working. He wasn’t sure how long her night shift was and didn’t want to interrupt. The last thing he wanted was to be a bother.

He picks up his phone and opens the messaging app. 

_Should he even reach out?_

He sighs, hands trembling, thinking for a few moments before finally entering her number in his contacts as “Omera, NP” [nurse practitioner]. He didn't even know her last name, and yet he trusted her beyond reason.

He stares at the blinking cursor in the empty message box, each blink marking another second wasted and ramping up his anxiety. Minutes pass and ultimately, he can’t bring himself to text her just yet. 

He suddenly feels he should go visit the kid to clear his head. Slipping on his heavy jacket and donning his helmet, he exits his house, mounts his chrome bike, and starts toward Prairie Wind Hospital.

\--------------------------

_I wonder how Din is doing_ , she muses, walking to the med room for an IV fluid bag. 

_It was a huge thing for him - fostering_. 

She found it admirable and heartwarming how much of a bond the firefighter and the boy he bravely rescued shared. Despite his steadfast desire to take in the child, he had also been so overwhelmed, as anyone would be. She just hopes he doesn't try to do it alone. She had meant it when she said she wanted to help.

She grabs a liter of D5W IV fluids from the supply and returns to her hypernatremic patient's side, wondering if Din will happen to visit the kid again before her double-shift is done. She glances at the clock and notes it's almost 10 AM. 

\-------------------------

It's almost 10 AM as he enters through the ER and he immediately spots Omera. He's completely captivated by her - how very concentrated her brown eyes are while hanging an IV fluid bag, the way her jewel-blue stethoscope hangs around her shoulders like a necklace of sorts. 

He's unable to take his eyes off of her as he continues walking.

.

.

.

_BAM!_

_Ah heck._

He reflexively holds his throbbing nose and can feel the slick of blood underneath. As senses rush back, he realizes he just walked right into the sturdy metal-frame of a flu shot sign.

“Distracted walking, I see,” I.G. pops out of nowhere. "Are you ok?" 

Before Din can even process the question, the eccentric nurse is directing him to a nearby ER bed.

_This is not going smoothly..._

“What happened?” Omera rushes over.

 _Oh heck,_ he thinks as embarrassment runs hot under his skin.

“Walked right into a sign,” I.G. relays.

Soon her pen light is in his eyes, blinding him momentarily.

"Follow my finger," she directs.

He humors her, following the side to side, up and down, and back and forth motions she traces in the air.

“I was distracted,” Din confesses, setting his helmet on the bed beside him, incredibly embarrassed to have been such a bumbling fool in front of her. "I-I promise I'm ok," he tries to sell it, but his cracking voice and watering eyes betray him, along with the fact he's still holding his nose.

Unsurprisingly, she doesn't appear convinced and places a pulse oximeter on the finger of his free hand then slides down one side of his jacket to expose his bicep and straps a blood pressure cuff there.

She turns to her monotone colleague, "Can you watch bed four for me?"

"Of course," I.G. quirks his head before pulling the curtains closed and setting off to his task.

 _I'm trapped now,_ Din thinks. This isn't exactly how he wanted to see her, but he supposes he can't complain.

He studies her determined face as she gathers supplies and pulls on fresh gloves. 

She turns to him, “Let me see your nose.”

He removes his hand and he can feel wetness trickle down. She promptly presses gauze to the area and after a few moments, lifts it carefully to assess the damage, prodding on the periphery.

She subtly winces, “It's not broken, but it’s going to require stitches."

His heart rate spikes in reply and the machine alarms. She glances at the screen.

 _Damn needles._

"Just take a deep breath," she reassures him. "Here, hold this," she directs, gently cupping his hand to apply pressure to the wound. "Or maybe you'll heal before I can even begin," she teases with a lighthearted grin _._

He huffs a laugh, mind now wandering to his recent rapid-healing phenomenon, but not entirely minding the shortened downtime. As she retrieves her supplies from the nearby cart and readies the sutures, he swallows thickly. 

"Winta really enjoyed the fire station tour on Saturday. It's all she can talk about," Omera smiles, which dissolves his anxiety away.

"Yeah?" his eyebrows quirk upward. 

"It's all I've been thinking about too," she looks him directly in his eyes, motioning his hand down from his nose.

_It's all she can think abou-?_

He sucks in a sharp breath as she preps the wound with antimicrobial. It stings like a son of a bitch and his eyes water.

"Sorry," she winces.

_He must look like a real doofus right now._

"You'll feel a couple pinches," she says with needle in hand, which prompts him to close his eyes.

He feels the stinging prick around the bridge of his nose but it soon fades into a dull pressure. Now sufficiently numbed, he opens his eyes and watches her concentrate on mending his wound, her soft brown eyes focusing intently upon her task.

_She's very good at this._

Besides the intermittent squeeze of the blood pressure cuff, his entire attention is drawn to her and her ministrations. _Perhaps needles weren't so bad._

“Should maybe wear that helmet more often,” she teases as she snips the final suture.

“Maybe,” he huffs amusedly. 

She studies her stitchwork for a moment, then looks him in the eyes. “On second thought, maybe not - I’d miss seeing your smile,” she says sweetly, her face now impossibly close to his. Soft brown eyes shift between his own and she leans in ever-so-slightly; his eyes fall to her full lips. His pulse quickens entirely for her and he doesn't care the damn machine is announcing it.

The curtains pull open and Omera turns.

"Excuse the intrusion, but we have a farming equipment accident, left arm amputation with hemorrhagic shock, limb unsalvageable in field, arriving in approximately three minutes," I.G. reports.

She looks back at Din with sympathetic eyes.

"Good luck - they're in good hands," Din affirms with a nod, blush still running hot through his skin.

She smiles and then strips her gloves and hurries away.

 _She is a true hero_ , he muses, feeling incredibly inadequate, but more infatuated than ever. 

\---------------

Given everyone is busy with the incoming case, he unhooks himself from the machines. He pulls back up the one side of his jacket where the blood pressure cuff had been, and, as he does so, notices a new visitor sticker already in place. Din guesses it was courtesy of I.G., probably placed when he had been directing him to the bed - he huffs a laugh, not very surprised that the eccentric nurse would do such a thing. 

With his helmet under his arm, he continues over to the elevator and up to see the kid. Coming through to the colorful unit, the nurses at the station immediately bombard him. 

"What happened to that handsome face of yours?" the dark-haired one asks, coming to study it.

_Maybe he should have put the helmet on..._

"Firefighter stuff huh?" one asks rhetorically.

He’s too embarrassed to say and just let's them fuss.

"Looks like Omera's stitchwork," the brunette one surmises and Din nods.

"Let him see his boy, Nina," one of them says, stepping to nudge her out of the way.

Then yet another nurse comes up to him, but this one holds the kid. 

"Little one slept like a rock last night thanks to you. He's still a little groggy this morning," she reports.

"Hey kid," he smiles and the little one grins back. _He does look tired._

He reaches toward Din's injured nose and dark eyes grow a little sadder.

"I'm ok, kid," he assures as the nurse hands him over. Small grabby hands seek out his face and the worried eyes staring back are not convinced. Din decides a distraction is in order and slips on his helmet so the kid can’t see the injury.

"There, all better," Din reassures, voice muffled a little.

Eyes full of wonder stare at the new look. 

"You look just like his favorite storybook character," one of the nurses snickers.

The kid coos and then giggles as the firefighter tilts his head in question at the nurse.

"Speaking of, how about storytime?" he asks the kid who babbles in reply, still wide-eyed at the head gear Din now dons. 

Feeling a bit jumbled from his run-in with the flu vaccine signage, his mind wanders to Omera’s close proximity earlier and what he can only imagine to have been a near-kiss.

 _Pfffffttttt._ The kid blows a raspberry just before his mind wanders into steamier territory and he huffs a laugh.

"Sorry kid, storytime right," Din situates himself and the boy in the recliner, then grabs his favorite book.

He lifts his helmet, the kid watches intently. 

"Huh?" Before he knows it, small hands reach to his face, and toward his nose again.

"Bwaa," the little one insists.

"It's ok, kid," he leans back, out of reach. "See, Omera made it better," he points at the stitched wound and smiles. _Plus, with my newly acquired healing abilities it'll be fine by tomorrow_ , he thinks to himself.

The large dark eyes shift between his, not fully convinced. "Bwa," the kid finally sits back down, seemingly a little dejected, and points at the book.

"You are persistent...reminds me of someone else I know," he smiles, thinking of a certain nurse practitioner.

They read through the story, and he is struck again by the similarities. The kid happily listens, resting his head on Din's chest as content as can be. A protective warmth surges beneath the firefighter’s ribs. He looks down to the child.

Large, dark eyes shift up to him and he smiles. _This kid is going to be coming home with me in a few days._ The reality of the thought sends a pang of nerves through his gut. _This little being completely reliant upon me._

The kid rests a hand on his chest and his anxiety fades away.

"You're right," he says, "we got this."

"Boowap," the kid replies. 

"Another book then?" he smiles at the rugrat.

Just as they start the new story, a tap comes at the doorway. He looks up to find a dark-haired nurse standing there.

"Omera said she'd be free for lunch in a half hour. You can meet her at the Terrace Garden if you'd like," the nurse says and his heart lightens.

"Thank you," he nods at the woman. 

"She likes the vegetarian chili from the café," she winks, before turning away.

_Oh._

"Looks like we have a lunch date, huh kid?" he cocks his head at the little one in his lap.

"Bwa!"

\------------------

In the Terrace, tucked quietly behind the hospital and overlooking the prairie reserve, she sits at the picnic bench beneath the willow in the wildflower garden. The nearby water fountain babbles, a peaceful, unhurried whitenoise in contrast to the wailing alarms, blood, scrambling hands, wires and lines from earlier. She didn't know if the farmer would survive, but seeing Din and the kid would do her morale some good. 

She looks around, but only sees other staff and patients seeking fresh air.

 _Perhaps it was silly to have asked such a last-minute thing_ , she thinks. He maybe didn't want lunch after she'd caused him pain and then clearly made a fool of herself by nearly kissing him, a patient, while she was working! 

_Oh heavens!_ she pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingertips, scrunching her eyes shut at the embarrassment.

"Omera." 

She turns to find _him_ balancing a tray of food along with the happy, bib-wearing kid. Her anxiety instantly fades into joy. 

"Sorry we're a little late - brought lunch for you in case you hadn't grabbed anything yet," he smiles and so does the kid. 

"Wow, thank you. That is so kind," she beams, elated he had thought of her. 

“I hope you like soup; otherwise, I can get you something else," he sets the tray on the table and then sits down, resting the kid on his lap. 

“I love soup.” She is so beyond touched that _he_ brought her lunch - she had actually been planning on buying _them_ a meal in the cafe, not the other way around. 

"I can't take all the credit,” he rubs the back of his head. “A darked-haired nurse in neon scrubs helped point me to something you might like."

 _Sounds like Nina._ Well, it seems everybody certainly knew she liked the firefighter, so much so, they were literally helping him navigate their meetings. 

"Nina definitely knows what I like. Used to work in the ER with me before moving full-time to peds."

"That explains how she knew your stitchwork so well," he quirks his eyebrows.

"I hope they didn't pester you too much on the floor," she grimaces knowing how very nosy they can be, even if it's well-meaning.

He shakes his head, resituating the patient kid on his lap before reaching to the tray. "Here," the kind firefighter hands her a lidded to-go bowl. 

His hand grazes hers as she accepts the container which makes her blush. "Wow, thank you," she smiles widely, not used to getting pampered like this - it makes her heart soar. 

"It's nothing," he says shyly. He also hands over a napkin, spoon, fresh fruit cup, wrapped whole grain bread roll, and sparkling water for her. 

Her eyes go wide. “This a full meal, Din!” she huffs a surprised laugh.

“You deserve it,” he nods.

She opens the lid. 

_Oh it really was her favorite -_ spicy vegetarian chili!

She looks into his soft brown eyes, so bright and full of genuine kindness that she could melt.

_Oh was he ever handsome._

She takes a bite of the savory stew, and watches as Din helps the kid eat his ravioli, cutting it into small pieces.

 _He is such a natural father._ It makes her swoon. In fact, she finds she cannot stop swooning over the man in front of her.

"How is it?" he asks, kind brown eyes glancing through the dark brown curls that hang over his forehead. 

"Wonderful. Thank you," she smiles, then takes another bite, but she misses some and it drips down her chin.

_Oh heavens._

"Um, you got a little something," he smiles, gesturing to her face. Then, almost instantly, he holds up a napkin to her and leans over the table, reaching to clean her face. "May I?"

She nods. "Sorry, I'm messy," she laughs, more than a little embarrassed as he gently wipes her chin, but enjoying the attention. "Thank you."

He smiles and blushes as he leans back. "Not as messy as him," he clears his throat, returning to assisting the sauce-faced kid with his fork.

She chuckles. _True._

"Are you going to eat?" she asks, having taken notice of his lack of meal.

"Maybe once he's done. Got a smoothie," he gestures to a cup still on the tray.

She smiles. She knows how it is - kids take priority, but you also have to find time for yourself.

The kid tires of the fork and grabby hands soon find the pasta pieces, stuffing them into his mouth, making quick work of the remainder of the plate. 

"Kid, you're a mess," Din sighs humorously. "Good thing they gave us extra napkins."

"Batoo!" the kid protests as the firefighter wipes his squirmy saucy hands and face.

She laughs at the adorable sight. 

He hands the kid a small cup of chocolate milk and the boy does great managing the open cup without much spilling. Din chases the stray dribbles with a napkin before they fall too far down the kid's bib.

Once done with the beverage, the kid obviously wants down, pointing and fussing. 

“Hold on kid.” Din removes the soiled bib and let's him off his lap to the ground. He sighs and chuckles as the little one starts with a few uneven steps, before resorting to crawling toward the tall grass. He hasn’t mastered walking yet, but he’d be hell on two feet soon, and she’d be there to help Din through it.

"You're so good with him," she smiles, watching the new father attentively monitoring the kid.

"He makes it easy on me," he grins, watching as the kid plops down not far away and grabs at the tall tasseled meadow grass at the edge of the prairie reserve.

As she finishes her meal, he finally sips on his smoothie, keeping an eye on the kid. She tidies up her side of the table, setting the compostables back on the tray. Then she joins Din's side to study the swelling around his handsome nose (but also to be closer) - he turns to watch her as she seats herself next to him. He sets the drink down, tilting his head in curiosity.

"Your nose isn't healed yet," her eyes sweep over the stitches.

"Sorry to disappoint," he smiles, a dimple resting in his one cheek.

"Perhaps it needs a kiss to activate the rapid-healing," she almost cannot believe she said that out loud and is about to apologize.

"May-be," he replies, husky voice breaking. His blush only grows a deeper mauve.

She leans in gently, just about to press her lips to the tip of his nose, below the gash...

"Hey kid!" Din suddenly pulls away and is up from the bench in a blink.

Startled, she turns to find the kid had caught a frog in the wildflowers.

"Put that down," Din reprimands.

"Batoo."

He kneels down to the child's level, "Here, let's put him back in the fountain."

Din carries the kid to the water and has him release the creature there.

"Bah," the kid waves as the frog swims for dear life away from the curious boy.

He turns to Omera, "Sorry for the scare. This one probably should get back before he causes any more trauma to the wildlife."

She laughs and smiles. “Thank you for the wonderful lunch. I’ll clean up - you have your hands full,” she nods to the wriggling kid in his arms. 

Din nods and goes to return inside.

"I'm off tomorrow if you needed help with the paperwork," she adds.

He turns, “Are you sure?"

"Of course - whatever I can do to help. It’s my pleasure,” she smiles.

He shyly looks down at the ground then back at her, “My shift is done at 6pm, but you could stop by the station again for lunch...Winta is welcome too of course.” 

She nods, grateful for the offer. “She’ll be in school until three-thirty.” 

“Right,” he nods.

“Noon again?” she confirms.

“Yes,” he smiles. “Thank you again, Omera.”

Waving to the adorable dark-eyed kid who peeks over the firefighter’s shoulder, she watches as they make their way through the garden back toward the back entrance. She’s absolutely beaming that she’d get to see Din again tomorrow. 

\-----------------------

He says goodbye to the snoozing kid, this time proving no easier than the previous, and the nurses fuss and thank him for entertaining the little rugrat today.

He exits through the ER, hoping for a glimpse of Omera, but instead only finds I.G. who gives a friendly nod.

_The eccentric nurse always seemed to be working..._

Just as he's about to don the helmet in the parking lot, his phone rings. He grabs it from his pocket and looks at the screen.

_Sheriff Dune._

“Hello?”

“Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?” she asks.

“No.” He’s immensely curious what the call is about.

“Got some news regarding the warehouse fire case. They never found the bassinet you mentioned, but that man you described, I found him," she reports.

"Did he offer anything helpful?" he asks, feeling intrigued.

"That's the thing. He claims he had seen some black, unlicensed SUVs at the property later that evening, after the fire had been put out," she relays. “We’re checking local surveillance footage, but nothing so far.”

_That's very odd._

“The man also seemed a little paranoid, talking about Empire Incorporated and thinking it’s all some kind of cover up,” she huffs a laugh.

“Oh,” he realizes maybe the man isn't too reliable.

“Just take care of yourself, Din. I’ll let you know if we make any more breaks, but right now, it’s only getting murkier. Let us know if you see anything strange - the guy might just be a conspiracy theorist, but something still seems off about all of this.”

"Thanks Cara." 

He pockets the cell phone, then hops on his motorcycle, daylight growing golden and mature in the cloud-speckled sky. He takes off, turning onto County Road 4, cruising through the rolling prairie reserve. He still has so much to do between the paperwork, getting supplies for the kid, and setting up a room. He’s immensely grateful for Omera’s assistance - he’d be lost without her, but he also didn’t want to abuse her kindness. He then remembers he had a visit from the county tonight to ensure his house was child-safe. 

Movement in his side mirror catches his eye. He glances to find a dark vehicle rapidly gaining on him.

_That’s odd._

He speeds up to avoid getting hit - judging by their trajectory, he isn’t sure they are paying attention. 

But the car only speeds up. He can make out more details as they approach - a black SUV, with dark tinted windows. No license plate.

_Chills run up his spine._

Din engages the throttle even more to clear the remainder of the prairie throughway as fast as he feels safe. Suddenly, ahead another black SUV emerges, blocking the lanes.

_What the?_

He’s forced to slow down, despite not liking this scenario one bit. He keeps ahead at a steady pace toward the parked SUV ahead, then decides to take his bike off-road last-moment. The uneven ground rattles the handle bars as he races through the tall grass, praying there aren’t any large boulders, mounds, or divots in his path. Now past the roadblock, he turns back toward the road, gunning it. He then takes the next turn down a side street, and then another.

He checks his mirrors. There's absolutely no sign of the black SUVs.

He’s lost them. _Already?_

He circles around another couple neighborhoods and parks on a side street. He pries off his helmet and catches his breath, before dialing Sheriff Dune. 

“Din? What’s up?”

“You wanted to hear about anything strange, right?” _He's not sure what the hell just happened._

\---------------

He starts his shift bright and early after a restless night thinking about the incident yesterday...he had barely said anything to the county child services worker who'd stopped by last night for a house visit. He passed, but it didn't really feel like it at the time. It seemed a threat was looming. Something he wasn’t prepared for. Dune said she would have extra patrols scouting for suspicious vehicles the next couple days. She also said she wasn't sure if it was connected to the kid, but Din had a bad feeling. The fact whoever was inside the SUVs had chosen the reserve stretch of County Road 4 probably meant they wanted an area without cameras or witnesses for whatever they had planned. 

_But why him? Were they after the kid? But why?_

“You look like you could use this,” Paz shoves a cup of black, gut-rot brew in front of him. His stomach churns at the thought of putting anything in it at the moment. 

“Your girlfriend dump you or something?” Paz goads.

Din glares at the large man and huffs. “No.”

“Just the wrong side of the bed, huh?” the larger man huffs. "Lose a fight?" he points to his own nose in reference to the stitches running over Din's.

Din puffs and sighs, “You could say that.”

The radios clipped on their chests spontaneously crackle: "10-82. Kitchen fire at 2020 5th St SW, Tatooine residence."

Like a reflex, both are up and donning the bunker gear in a blink to respond to the call.

_Good - it will give his nervous energy something to do._

\--------------------------------------

After getting back from the house fire, which was quickly contained, the rest of the morning is uneventful. His nerves finally settle from the encounter the night before and he instead finds himself looking forward to Omera’s visit, hoping that nothing comes up around their meeting. His thoughts soon wander to all the preparatory work he still needs to do prior to the kid's discharge - all the supplies needed. 

"Another date?" Vizsla's voice teasingly rumbles.

 _Huh?_ He looks up and finds her old teal SUV pulling into the lot.

_It's already noon!_

"Didn't scare her off _yet_ \- nice work, Djarin!" his colleague chortles.

Despite his long-suffering nature, Din nearly rolls his eyes at Paz. He gets up from his air tank maintenance to greet her at the bay entrance, feeling his heart flutter. She walks over with a lunch basket hooked on her arm, a sunny smile on her face and long, dark hair flowing behind as she approaches.

 _She's stunning,_ he thinks distractedly. Before he knows it, his foot catches a stray hose. Stumbling, he catches himself last-moment before taking a nosedive.

"He's really falling for you," Vizsla chortles loudly before disappearing into the breakroom. 

Embarrassment creeps warm and red under his skin. _What a doofus she must think I am,_ he chastises himself.

"I think I'm falling too," she winks, taking it in stride. 

His heart rate picks up, racing along with his thoughts at her statement; despite the playfulness, he couldn't help but hold onto the truth of it. 

"How's your nose?" she comes close and studies it. 

Words are something he's wholly incapable of at the moment.

"Not yet healed, but looking good," she assesses. "Your super-healing powers are lagging," she smiles teasingly.

"G-guess so," he finally manages some speech.

"Well, shall we get those documents filled out?" she asks.

"Oh, yes. Just have to grab them from my car," he points out the bay to his vintage, hand-me-down vehicle, shining in the bright midday sun.

"You do have a car," she says as though it's a revelation. 

He didn't use it unless he needed to transport multiple persons or something that wouldn't fit on his motorcycle, of which, both scenarios were exceedingly rare. 

"Much more practical transportation with a kid," she adds.

"Yeah, was my dad's car," he opens the passenger door and grabs the stack of papers. "It's old, but has seat belts, should fit a carseat in back no problem. Going to bring it to the shop to make sure it's in perfect condition before the kid comes home."

_Peli will no doubt charge him an arm and a leg for a tune-up._

She smiles. "It's a nice car," she lovingly runs her hand over the hood, which makes him smile. No one ever complimented such an old car.

Documents in hand, he closes the door and they walk over to the shaded picnic bench.

"Alright, let's go through it," she says, setting down the food basket and reaching out for the papers.

"I filled out almost everything," he relays as he surrenders them over along with a pen. "Dog-eared pages are the ones that still need to be completed and I'm a bit stuck."

She flips through the documents to the first folded page, eyes scanning back and forth. Din looks and it's the Emergency Contact page.

"I'll be a contact," she looks at him, "if that's ok with you."

"Are you sure?" he was going to ask Greef or Paz if all else failed - but he still didn't want to place that burden upon her, unless she was very sure.

"Yes," she smiles, "I'm 100% certain and would love to."

"Thank you," he doesn't know what else to say. He watches as she fills out the information.

 _Omera Anang_ \- her full name. He hadn't known her last name until just now, and it was beautiful, fitting her perfectly.

Once done with that section, she then flips through to the next incomplete page: Secondary Childcare.

"Caben and Stoke already said they would love to babysit. Again, if that's ok with you. They are great with Winta and have been watching her since she was even younger than your boy," she offers.

 _It's only about a 10 minute drive, so it'd work rather well._ He doesn't need much more than that to make the decision.

"Thank you. Yes, that would be perfect," he nods, completely overwhelmed and thankful for her solving some of his most worrisome dilemmas. He had been considering childcare through a county first-responder program, but this was leagues better. He already kind of knew Caben and Stoke and he fully trusted Omera and any recommendation she could make.

She jots down their information, completing that section and they flip through the remainder of the pages to ensure everything is completed. 

"Looks like it's done!" she nods, then studies the last page: _The list of child supplies._

_Oh shoot, he hadn't meant to keep that one there._ The county worker that had visited last night left him a list of everything he needed for the child to thrive. And was it ever a LONG list. 

"I still have a lot of shopping to do," he reaches to take it from her, embarrassed he's so under-prepared.

“I still have a lot of things from when Winta was a baby," she gently grabs his hand in hers, redirecting him from snatching the paper. She goes down and ticks off nearly 75% of the items listed. "I would like to offer them, if that's ok."

_He couldn’t ask that of her, could he?_

“Are you sure?” he confirms.

“Yes, it’s just collecting dust in my attic,” she smiles.

He nods, unsure what to say, how to possibly voice his gratitude for such incredible generosity. It was all too much, too kind. Just like the beautiful woman before him.

"Also, the pediatric nurses have already been buying some things for you too, which I know knocks the remainder from this list," she checks the rest of the items. "Even if you only foster, you can donate the new supplies,” she adds.

 _Oh wow. It’s really all too much - too kind. But fostering is going to work. It's really going to happen. The kid is going to come home with him…at least for now._ He’d cross the adoption bridge when or if he got there.

“Din? Are you ok?” she gently holds his wrist.

His eyes shift back to her soft brown ones. “Yes. I’m just - I cannot believe how much support I’m getting. It’s...thank you,” he’s tongue-tied.

"Of course," she squeezes his hand. "You're not alone. I admire, everyone admires what you are doing for the boy - it's the least we can do."

He smiles, clearly she is some kind of guardian angel.

"Well, let's eat before you get called away," she smiles warmly, releasing his hand and then starts unpacking their lunch. "Made sandwiches again - hope you don't mind," she hands him a wrapped peanut butter and jelly.

_She didn't have to bring, let alone make him anything._

"Thank you - y-you didn't need to," he stammers. _She's doing so much for him._

"My pleasure," she grins, taking a large bite of her sandwich.

He unwraps his and takes a bite, fully expecting his radio to burst into a call at any moment as it usually did when he started a meal, but it's radio silence for once.

"So much better than a protein bar," he compliments.

"You don't cook much?" she asks, taking a sip of sparkling water.

"I do - just when at work, I keep it simple. Fire calls are unpredictable."

"What do you like to make at home?" she leans in, taking another bite.

"Soup, stir fries, roasts mostly. I hope the kid likes it," he huffs a laugh.

"As long as it's soft and not a choking risk," she reassures.

"I have so much to learn and do," he starts feeling overwhelmed again.

"Hey, you got this. I'll bring by some stuff tonight, if that's ok?" she offers sweetly.

He looks up at her, her kind touch grounding him and his runaway thoughts.

"Only if I can make you dinner - Winta's of course invited too," he smiles. He had a stew going in the slow cooker already - one of his favorites - and he thinks she and her daughter might like it too.

"Deal," she grins.

They finish eating their meal under the shade of the oak tree while Omera gives key pointers on caring for a toddler, which both amazes and overwhelms him. He finds himself taking notes on the back of the supply list. 

"If you ever need help or have a question, I'm just a call away. If I'm with a patient, that's the only time I might delay in getting back to you," she says. 

He is beyond grateful to her and he looks into her relentlessly kind eyes. She reaches to his hand resting on the table, taking it in hers again. His heart beats incredibly quick at the sensation as she circles her fingertips over his palm. Eyes meet his, and then he stares at her lips. _She's so beautiful and kind and..._

 _Beep! Beep! Beep!_ Her phone chimes.

“Gotta pick up Winta,” she winces, releasing her hand and silencing the alarm. She gathers the leftovers in her basket. “I promise you a proper kiss eventually,” she quickly pecks his cheek.

His heart stumbles then races at the thought.

“Thank you again, Omera - for everything,” he takes some of the garbage from her.

“Of course - see you tonight around 6:30?” she looks into his eyes.

He nods. "I'll text you my address," he says.

"See you then!" she shouts over her shoulder as she jogs over to her car.

Din waves as she departs, so very smitten. He has absolutely zero idea what she sees in him, but just hopes she keeps seeing whatever _it_ is. He takes a deep breath to gather his thoughts, tossing the garbage in the receptacle and then grabs completed paperwork to return to his car.

"She's coming over tonight?" Paz chuckles from the bay opening. "Smooth, Djarin."

Din shakes his head at his eavesdropping colleague. 

"Your heart-eyes are still showing," Vizsla adds.

Even for someone as dense as Paz could be, it wasn’t difficult at all to see that Din was indeed irrevocably lovesick.

\----------------------

His heart is racing as the doorbell rings. He rushes from the kitchen to the front door, having placed the last table setting and tidying up - all within 20 minutes of getting home.

He clears his throat, swallows nervously, and takes a deep breath just before opening the door.

"Welcome," he greets Omera and Winta with a smile. _Omera is as beautiful as ever..._

"Din," Winta smiles. "I'm glad you're ok," her arms are immediately around his waist.

"She was still worried after your cattle accident," Omera smiles widely.

"Yes, thanks to your Mom, I'm A-ok," Din reassures.

She lets go and looks at his face, obviously focusing on his stitches, "You get hurt a lot."

He chuckles, "Seems that way."

"Good thing you're dating my mom - she can fix anything," the girl says casually.

Din blushes furiously, completely befuddled at the girl's statement, and Omera is hiding her face behind her hands.

"Woah, your place is so cool!" the girl's attention is drawn behind him and she shuffles past. Winta's wide-eyes look everywhere. "It smells so good too!"

"Your house is cleaner than mine," Omera laughs lightheartedly. "And dinner smells amazing." She leans in, giving him a kiss on his cheek. "I still promise a real one later," she whispers into his ear and his knees nearly give out.

 _Breathe_ , he reminds himself.

"Momma, you should see this weird TV," Winta shouts from the other room, then races over to her mom.

"Winta, manners," she reprimands, as her daughter pulls her hand to go look.

"It is a weird TV," he chuckles, following the two. He still had a cathode ray tube (bubble-screen) TV, positively archaic by today's standards. 

"Does it even have a remote?" Winta asks as they turn into the living room.

"It does," he chuckles.

"How about we get some stuff inside?" Omera suggests to him and Winta. "If there's still time before dinner's ready that is?"

Din nods.

"Momma packed like all my old baby stuff. She said you're getting a son to take care of. Do I get to visit him?" her eyes beam and beg.

"Sure, if that's ok with your mom," Din smiles, deferring to Omera.

Omera nods. "Of course."

They all file out the front and to her car. 

_It's packed._

"Omera - th-this is too kind," he stutters, floored by the sheer volume of baby gear.

"Babies need a lot of work and supplies. I should know," she ruffles Winta's already wild hair.

"Mommaaa," Winta grouses, smoothing her hair back down. 

"You'll always be my little sunflower," she smiles, handing a smaller box to her daughter. Din can't help but smile in return - he had a wealth of parenting knowledge to glean from Omera.

Din goes around to the other side and opens the door, catching a box like a viper before it tumbles onto the driveway.

"Good reflexes," Omera grins. "You served in the military, didn't you?"

"Yes, why you ask?" he gazes at her.

"I saw a Distinguished Flying Cross medal on your wall, and your reflexes," she looks at him, "I don't mean to pry."

"Served as an Airforce pilot for a few years, many years ago. Took a shot to the leg and shrapnel in my chest during ground combat; it sent me home. I was lucky in comparison," he tries his best not to relive the past, all for a war he didn't even really want to fight in. "Fire department took me back when I recovered." 

"I'm so sorry," she says softly.

"It's ok. I was grateful they took me in, that I had a job. It isn't always easy for veterans."

"Woah, you got shot. Does it still hurt? Did they get the bullets out?" Winta asks, rapidfire.

"Winta," Omera scolds.

"It's ok," he says to Omera, then turns to Winta. "Doesn't really hurt anymore. Thankfully they got all the pieces out." 

"Thanks for your service," the girl says politely and Din takes her words to heart. It wasn’t often he was thanked for anything. 

They carry the boxes into the living room and make a handful more trips to get the rest inside. Omera is obviously strong as she carries more than her fair share of heavy items. After giving them a brief tour of the house, they end up back in the entryway. 

"Ok, I'm famished now," Winta wipes her brow.

Omera laughs at her daughter's dramatic antics.

"Well you're in luck because I made a lot of food," he replies.

He leads them into the kitchen, a fresh loaf of bread in the center of the table, along with fresh fruit and cookies (the cookies were a nearly weekly delivery, courtesy of Mrs. Frock and her many children - he and Paz had rescued her from a car incident months ago).

"Coogies!" Winta chirps.

"After dinner," Omera chuckles.

Din laughs too. _It's not like he didn't eat a couple before they arrived..._

"What would you like to drink? I have root beer, water, milk, orange juice," he addresses Winta, listing the kid-friendly beverages.

"I'll have root beer!" the girl decides.

"Me too," Omera smiles.

"Coming right up," he grabs the beverages from the fridge as they wash up in the sink. "Main course is harvest stew. It's a little spicy, but it's a family recipe," he sets their beverages on the counter 

"Sounds perfect," Omera says.

"I like spicy," Winta nods.

He serves up the bowls and soon they all dig in.

"This is wonderful," the nurse practitioner compliments.

"Yum!" Winta burps.

Omera gives a look at her daughter.

"Excuse me," she peeps. "It's just so good!"

"I'll take it as a compliment," Din nods with a smile. 

The bread dwindles to less than half a loaf and bowls are filled a second time. Between bites, Winta tells Din about her day at school and he finds himself listening, attentive to every word the bright girl has to say. She was a good kid.

Right after Winta finishes her second half-bowl, she asks, "Coogie time?!" 

"Sure," Omera laughs, then looks at Din. "It's the way the younger generation pronounces 'cookie' now apparently."

Din chuckles.

They sit awhile and enjoy the sweets, Omera and Din exchanging soft and shy glances as Winta chatters away about the racoonian raiders on their street. He suddenly gets an idea.

"I can help build a taller fence around the garden," he offers. "It's the least I can do in return for everything you, Caben and Stoke have offered."

"Can I help?" Winta asks immediately.

"We'll see, I have to get a permit first," he replies to the eager girl.

"We'd love that," Omera smiles. "Your boy takes priority though."

He doesn't know how much freetime, if any, he'll have once the kid comes to live with him, but maybe once his fostering is over...his heart sinks at the thought. He find he wants to visit the kid tonight, but he has far too much to prepare.

"Can I take your bowl?" Winta asks, breaking him from his thoughts. 

He looks and she already has Omera's stacked inside her's. 

"Thank you," he nods, surprised but heartwarmed by the gesture. "You can just put it in the sink." He gets up and cleans the rest of the table and places the leftover stew in the fridge.

"Would you like help setting up his room? We'd love to help," Omera asks and Winta nods wildly.

"That would be great actually," he feels a weight release from his chest - he had absolutely zero idea on how to set up a kid's room.

They bring boxes from the living room and up the stairs to the second floor where the kid's room will be. Din had cleared it out a few days ago, so it's essentially a blank slate. Once everything is in the boy's room and Winta is busy unpacking the toys, gender-neutral clothing, and blankets, he and Omera set up a baby gate at the top and bottom of the staircase - it will be peace of mind when the little one happens to crawl around on either level.

"I never thought I'd have hurdles on my stairs," he huffs amusedly, admiring their handiwork. 

She chuckles, "Well, off to set up the crib?" she places a hand on his shoulder.

He nods and they go up the stairs to the room together.

"I think I'm all done," Winta announces as the turn through the doorway.

The room has empty boxes neatly stacked and toys are set up nicely on the dresser.

"Thank you Winta." Din is amazed.

"Can I watch your weird TV? My favorite show is on soon," she asks.

"Sure," Din chuckles.

"Thank you!" she quickly hugs Din's waist and then is off in a blink.

"Oh, she can be something else," Omera shakes her head.

"She's a good kid, a reflection of her mother," he looks in Omera's eyes.

She smiles shyly and then goes to retrieve a slat of the crib - Din follows suit. Omera holds the pieces in place as Din fastens them together. Soon the crib is assembled with their teamwork. They step back and admire the finished result.

"They grow unimaginably fast - it's almost unfair," Omera reminisces.

"Winta is lucky to have such a wonderful mother," he places a hand gentle on her shoulder from behind. Her hand comes to rest over his, sending electricity through his nerves from her touch.

"Someone say my name?" Winta's voice appears from behind. "Woah, look it's all set up!" She bounds into the room. 

Din can't believe it, but it actually looks like a nursery now - like it was always meant to be.

"What's your son's name?" Winta breaks his internal thoughts.

 _Oh_ \- _um_...

He clears his throat, "I don't know. He probably has one already, but he's too young to tell me."

"You got a picture of the little fella?" the curious girl asks.

"Yeah," he smiles - the nurses had insisted upon a photo the other day. He pulls it up on his phone and hands it to her.

She studies it for a split-second. "Greg, he looks like a Greg." She hands back the phone.

Omera hides her face in her hand at her daughter's enthusiastic lack of filter.

He nods and chuckles. "You know, I kind of like that name," he smiles. 

Omera smiles then pulls Winta to her side. "Alright, it's getting late and I know you still have homework, sunflower."

"Ugh, I'm only ten. Why do they give us so much homework?" she moans.

"To keep your intelligent mind challenged and engaged," she playfully taps her fingers over her daughter's head.

"It just makes the teacher happy to torture us," she halfheartedly swats her mom's hands away.

"Winta."

"Ok, I'm sorry," she mopes.

"Thank you again for hosting," Omera smiles at Din.

"Thank _you_ ," he walks them down the stairs, opening the gates. "Thank you both for all your help - I honestly could not have done it without you," he smiles, heart so full of gratitude.

At the door, Winta gives Din another hug and Omera does too, which has his brain short-circuiting and heart floundering.

"Call or text if you need anything," she kindly reminds again as they get into her car.

He waves as they take off. He finds he could get used to them always being around, as if they were also a missing piece to his life that somehow made him feel more complete. 

\----------------------

The next morning, he turns in the completed paperwork to the hospital unit social worker who quickly flips through to confirm all necessary parts are filled out. 

“Looks complete," the man says. "It should be processed by tomorrow, and if all goes smoothly, you will be taking the kid home Thursday.” 

“Thanks,” Din nods and then turns out of the office to go see the kid. Then the event from a couple nights ago pops into his head. _Would the child be safe to come home with Din? Wonder if he’s followed again - or worse?_ He had to have faith Cara’s patrols would keep them safe. He just had to.

He turns into the kid’s room and the boy is standing up in his crib, reaching out for Din.

 _Have you noticed anything else strange?_ Cara’s words play in his memory like a track on repeat.

“Hiiiiii,” the kid greets.

 _Strange?_ Din starts to think about his unexplained quickened healing and his nerves sputter. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before now, but it had started since the kid. 

_It couldn’t be._

His heart palpitates and mind races and the implication.

 _It was just a coincidence, right?_ _Things like that aren’t possible._

He peers into the large dark eyes. 

_Pffffffftttttt!_ The kid blows a raspberry getting Din’s face wet and then giggles.

He huffs a laugh, wiping the spray from his cheeks, feeling incredibly silly for even thinking something supernatural was happening.

“Your only power is messiness,” he laughs. _Along with your ability to put up with me,_ he thinks softly to himself.

“Storytime?” he asks the happy kid.

“Bwa!”

_*Unbeknownst to Din, as he seats himself and the child in the chair, the child's favorite book silently tips up on its side upon the nightstand, seemingly on its own.*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are HAPPENING 😱 Thank you for taking the time to read and for all of the lovely feedback and support ❤ I can’t believe how many people are enjoying this story - it really means the world. Stay safe & healthy & Happy New Year! [[Chapter 5 should be out by February - and in honor of Valentine’s day, a Mandomera date is definitely in order. Omera’s gotta deliver on that “real kiss” promise!!]]
> 
> -> Side note: I had decided that "Anang" is Omera’s last name - it is Native American Ojibwe for “star”. “Omera” is Arabic for “inspiration”. Her name is literally “inspiring star”, which is fitting as she is Din’s guiding star 🥰🌟


	5. The Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big day is drawing near.
> 
> Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of blood, medical procedures (specifically needles). Alcohol (wine). Intimacy (non-explicit, but steamy).

"Din," her voice is barely a whisper.

Plump, velvet and featherlight, her lips press to his. Eager, he chases them, tasting their softness against his own. Her lower lip sinks between his, and with newfound confidence, he traces his tongue over the silken flesh.

She giggles.

_Must be doing something right._

_She’s so beautiful_ \- he cannot believe this is happening - her lips anywhere near his, to hold her attention, to have her affection. It’s all so surreal. 

“Din,” her voice grows louder, stronger. "Din."

He doesn’t want to break the kiss, but he feels her form fading away - her voice grows clearer: "Din."

"Hhhhmmmm," his eyes flutter open, bleary vision adjusting. 

_He's in the kid’s hospital room._

"Morning," she smiles, standing at the foot of his recliner. "Looks like you were dreaming about something really tasty," she chuckles, fussing with her stethoscope.

A blush burns furiously beneath his skin given the subject of his steamy dream stands before him. And he wishes with everything that he could hide under his helmet that's currently on the bedside table. 

He clears his throat. ”Morning,” he shyly smiles, nervously running a hand through his hair.

She smiles brightly, "Well, it's not exactly morning anymore - it's nearly three o'clock. My shift starts soon."

_Wait...the kid!_

"Where's the kid?" his worry skyrockets as he glances around frantically, then jumps up from the chair. _The child had fallen asleep on his chest, hadn’t he?_

"It's ok - he's asleep in the crib," she gestures.

He looks over to find the kid snoozing away in a nest of blankets, peaceful as can be.

“Gave me a scare, kid," his anxiety melts away as he watches the steady rise and fall of the little rugrat’s chest. _One of the nurses must have put him in there._

From the corner of his eye, he then notices more things in the room than before he had fallen asleep. He turns and his jaw nearly drops.

 _Gifts?_

He reaches to a neatly-folded stack of children’s clothing wrapped in a bow on the nightstand. And in the corner on the floor, there’s also a carseat, diapers, toys, and oversized gift bags full of what appears to be a menagerie of other things. 

“The nurses pitched in,” she smiles. “Your supply list should be complete.” 

It really is all the remaining things on his list just as Omera had alluded to the other day. Despite her warning, he still finds himself blindsided by the incredible kindness and his eyes sting with gratitude. He’ll have to pick it up later since he’d dropped his car at Motto's this morning and rode in on his motorcycle.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” his heart feels so very full.

_How could he ever repay everyone’s kindness?_

Knocking draws his attention to the door, and there he finds the social worker from earlier along with a small group of nurses in the doorway.

"Congratulations, Mr. Djarin, you're officially a foster parent," the man announces and the nurses start very quietly cheering in an attempt to not wake the kid.

_Wow._

He looks at Omera as if she'd tell him whether or not he's still dreaming. _He must be, right?_ He had felt something somehow would inevitably go awry with the paperwork - he never got lucky like this. _Nothing_ ever went this smoothly... _or could it?_

Omera is beaming, and leans in for a gentle hug, grounding him back into reality, "Congratulations." 

_It really is happening._

Over her shoulder, he glances around the room, the surrealness of the news starting to feel more tangible. He couldn't have done it without _all_ of them - the nurses, social workers, county case workers - but especially not without _her_ , the selfless nurse practitioner that just releases him from her comforting embrace. 

Smiling at her, he feels his skin heat up and gives a gentle nod to show his appreciation. He then turns to the small group congregating partway into the room. "Thank you...everyone," he nods. "I cannot tell you how much I appreciate everything you've done for me...and the kid." He means every word with every fiber of his being.

A few nurses approach and he's soon smothered by a few tight hugs, which make his heart swell. Their words of congratulations, encouragement, explanation of gifts and gift receipts, and overall fuss die down within a handful of minutes, eventually leaving just him, Omera, and the snoozing kid in the room. But his head still reels.

"This is too kind," he exhales in disbelief, looking again at all the sheer volume of baby supplies.

“You are so very deserving, Din,” she smiles, squeezing his arm.

As he smiles, something suddenly falls from his face. 

_What the?_

He bends over, searching for whatever it was. He soon spots thread pieces on the floor and picks them up, studying the stitches between his fingertips - _stitches just placed yesterday_.

_It can't be._

“Your nose,” Omera gasps, “...it's healed.” Skilled fingertips gently palpate the newly healed skin and he watches her soft brown eyes flit inquisitively over the area. “Din, this is so…unusual. When did you start experiencing...experiencing _this_?"

He swallows nervously, "Just within the past week."

Her dark brown eyes plead with concern as her hand falls from his face and to his bicep, "I'd like to run some blood tests, just to make sure nothing else is going on."

_Only she could convince him of getting stabbed with a needle._

"Sure," he nods.

_Certainly this condition...or whatever it is...is only a good thing, right? Should he be concerned?_

"Does now work?" she asks.

 _Now?_ His heart anxiously thumps and he swallows nervously. He looks at her and brown eyes persuade him again, "Sure...but don't you have other patients to see?"

"I asked I.G. to page me if anyone came in,” she grabs the pager from her waistband and checks the screen. “The ER is currently all under control." Before he knows it, her hand is around his wrist, and he's being led out the door and toward the elevator.

"Should I be worried?" _She seems really excited about this._

"No, no," she slows to a stop in the elevator bay and turns. "I just want to get you in before the ER picks up."

\-------------------------------

Truth be told, she didn't know what to think of his healing phenomenon.

It was certainly only beneficial from what she could tell. _But wonder if it was a symptom of a more sinister underlying condition? Like an exceedingly rare hematologic malignancy, one she hadn't heard of._ She had to be thorough. No sense in worrying him until she had at least some proof. And heaven forbid if she found something, she could refer him to a specialist.

As they enter the elevator, she can feel his pulse race under her fingertips still around his wrist.

_Oh Din. She was frightening him._

"It's ok," she faces him. "I didn't mean to alarm you."

"Oh, I-I'm fine," he shrugs, swallowing hard.

"I promise this is just routine blood work and nothing for concern. You're probably just a superhero," she gives a smile.

He huffs a laugh of amusement. "Superhero is _your_ title," he shyly smiles, looking down at his leather boots.

"Takes one to know one," she retorts with a grin, which earns a sheepish nod of surrender.

 _Ding!_ The elevator doors open and they exit around to the side of the ER. She directs him to an empty bed, pulling the curtains shut.

She quickly opens his chart in the electronic medical record, and enters an encounter with chief complaint of "abnormal wound healing". 

_It's not like it isn't true._

She then orders a CMP (complete metabolic profile) and CBC with differential (complete blood count) with instructions for "provider to draw" so the lab doesn't send a phlebotomist. Firefighters had great health insurance, so this entire thing will be no cost out-of-pocket for him - the last thing she wants is to stick him with a medical bill.

While his labels print, she santizes her hands, pulls on fresh gloves and retrieves the required supplies from the bedside cart, making sure to grab the appropriately-colored blood collection tubes. She then retrieves the sticker labels from the small printer and applies them to the vials.

"Thanks," he says with a pause, "for caring."

She chuckles. "Of course. It's hard _not_ to care about you." She ties the tourniquet around his arm, selects the median cubital vein at the crook of his arm and sanitizes the area with an alcohol prep wipe. 

"Can you verify your name and date of birth?" she asks out of habit.

"Din Djarin - November 12th, 1981," he relays.

As she readies the needle, Din suddenly looks very pale.

 _Oh, poor Din._ _He could use a distraction..._

"Winta really loved the soup you made last night," she smiles, looking at him. _It was the truth. Winta kept bugging her to make something like it for dinner tonight. Din was a great cook if his soup was any indication._

"Heh, yeah?" he nervously replies, now looking into her eyes.

"Mhhhmm, and so did I. Maybe we can do dinner again soon?" she gazes back.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," he smiles, still taking in her features.

Now that he's distracted she makes her move, "You'll feel a pinch," she warns then quickly inserts it in one smooth go, and starts filling the first tube. 

"Thanks for the distraction," he smiles.

_Oh, he noticed._

"Well, I really meant all of it," she removes the first tube, "You're an amazing cook."

"Thanks," he blushes. “I don’t get guests often.”

“Maybe we should change that - if you’d like,” she smiles as she starts filling the other tube. 

He nods.

"Well, still the normal color," she teases, holding up the second vial.

"Off to a good start," he huffs a shaky laugh.

"I'd say so...there, all done," she announces, releasing the tourniquet first, then withdrawing the needle and immediately pressing gauze over the puncture site. She tosses the used needle into the nearby sharps bin.

\-------------------

In his lightheaded state, he's almost tempted to tell her his ludacris theory about the kid and his healing capability. But he ultimately decides against it.

"You did great," she says sweetly, gently taping the gauze in place. "No heavy lifting for about an hour." 

Without any thought, as if a reflex, he finds his hand comes to rest over hers. "Thank you," he looks into her eyes, starting to feel a bit less faint. 

_He dislikes how something as small as a needle can make his hands clammy - she was a saint for being so patient._

Her face comes closer to his, and before he can process, she presses a gentle kiss on his lips - it completely surprises him. By the time he can even register what's happening, she has already pulled away. He’s stunned, skin heating rapidly as he looks in her eyes.

She shyly smiles, "I ran out of stickers - I hope that's a satisfactory substitution." 

He clears his throat, smiling in return, “G-glad you ran out.” 

She leans in again and whispers in his ear, "I still owe you a real one." 

His heart stutters and he swallows hard.

 _Wait -_ **_that_ ** _didn't count as a real kiss?_ He thinks a "real" one might render him unconscious.

She sits back and smiles, dimples adorning her cheeks. “I’ll call you when the results are in," she pats his thigh.

He nods, “Thank you." Then, despite his befuddled state, an idea hits him. "W-would you want to grab a bite on your break again?”

She looks at him, grinning and eyes glimmering, “My break is at seven." 

_Shwoosh._ The curtains pull open and they both look to find I.G. 

The tall nurse looks directly at Omera, “We got a hit and run about five minutes out - male, twenties, possible fractures to skull, cervical spine, ribs, and left femur; emergently intubated at the scene.” His eyes slide over to Din. “Oh, hello, Din Djarin,” he quirks his head reverently.

Din nods back at the eccentric nurse before he disappears, shutting the curtains.

“Be right there,” Omera shouts back at her colleague, then turns to Din. “Terrace at seven?” 

“Sounds great,” he smiles. "Good luck."

She takes the vials of his blood, then disappears through the curtains.

 _A true hero._ It seems every minute he grows even more in awe of her.

\--------------------

"Time of death fifteen forty-three," the resident next to her announces.

She bites back tears, arms and wrists burning with fatigue after nearly thirty minutes straight of trying to resuscitate the hit-and-run victim. She lowers herself off the bed, still catching her breath from the exertion. Sweat on her brow threatens to run, and she wipes it with the back of her forearm.

They had done all they could. It had been futile, but it still didn't hurt any less. A life had been lost. Someone with a family, friends, hopes and dreams, so much life ahead of them. _Gone._

_She had failed and death had won._

"Hope they catch whoever did this," Nikki, the nurse assisting them, shakes her head as she shuts down the flatlining and blank monitors. "Who just runs someone over anyway...and in broad daylight?"

_This type of accident hadn't happened in years, at least not in their community._

"He's the county DA's son too," the resident murmurs, shucking off her bloodied gloves. "I'll go break the news." 

Omera removes her bloodied gloves as she exits the room, tossing them in the trash. Then she washes her hands. The soothing water runs over her skin, allowing her mind to go blank like the whitenoise of the rushing faucet. 

“Lab results are back for your firefighter,” I.G.'s voice catches her ears. 

She turns to find her tall colleague.

_Nothing gets past him._

She smiles, grateful for the distraction, “Thanks."

He does that signature quirk of his head, "Certainly. You ok, Omera?"

"Yeah...just that hit-and-run didn't make it," she dries her hands, letting out an exhale that leaves her hollow inside.

He looks pensively for a moment, "You gave him the best chance." 

Staring down at the ground, she nods, replaying in her head if she _really_ had done all she could. _It wasn’t fair, but things in life often weren’t._ She knew that better than most.

He rests a gentle hand on her shoulder, "I know you, Omera - you would have done everything per protocol and then some." 

She smiles, "Thanks I.G." _He was always a good friend._

"Let me know if I can assist with anything," he offers.

“I’m ok.”

"You know where to find me if you change your mind," he quirks his head before turning away to bed the next ER patient.

"Thanks I.G." She switches gears and returns to her workstation. A coffee from the cafe with her name on it sits next to the keyboard.

 _I.G. was no doubt responsible_ \- he did so whenever it was a rough day _._ She looks around to thank her thoughtful colleague, but he's already slipped behind a curtain.

Taking a sip, she anxiously opens Din's chart and clicks on the new results, holding her breath. She immediately scans through the list of lab values. 

.

.

There is _nothing_ unusual in his blood tests. 

He's _perfectly_ healthy, perfectly normal. 

.

.

Exhaling the trapped breath, she feels immeasurably relieved on one hand, but on the other, the mystery remains and perhaps even deepens. 

_What on Earth could explain his healing abilities? Does she need a tissue sample?_

He had denied any other symptoms and his chest x-ray from their first encounter had been clear of any masses, not that he couldn't have any elsewhere, but he's completely healthy from what she can deduce. It would be unnecessary and frivolous to subject him to further testing at this point. 

_Maybe he really is superhuman..._ she muses to herself with an amused huff.

Instead of calling him, she decides she will tell him the good news - or rather non-news - of his lab results over their meal tonight, a meal she very much looks forward to.

\---------------------

"Karga?" he answers his ringing phone just before entering Motto's carshop, not really sure what the chief would be calling for. 

"Hey Djarin! Just wanted to give a 'congratulations' on the fostering," Karga boisterously praises.

_Wait...how did he know already?_

"Yeah, yeah Sheriff Dune told me - she heard the good news at the county office and let it slip," his boss continues as if reading his mind.

_Word travels fast in a small town._

He huffs a laugh, "Thanks Karga." He didn't mind really - he's actually kind of relieved he hadn't been the one to break the news. He hated being the center of attention.

"Well, given your new responsibilities, I also wanted to let you know that you're on mandatory _paid_ leave for a week starting Thursday."

He can't believe what he just heard. "Paid leave? A week?" 

"Mandatory," Karga reiterates. "The rest of the team gladly picked up extra shifts."

"They...are you sure?" he cannot wrap his mind around it, the sheer generosity.

"Yes - we all wanted to pitch in, give you more time to settle with the kid," Karga asserts.

"Thank you," he mumbles, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Don't sweat it and congrats again. See you tomorrow for your last shift," the fire chief says.

"Thanks again, Karga," he hangs up, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders that he hadn’t realized was there until now.

 _Wow_ . _It will be great to get some uninterrupted time with the rugrat._ He pockets his phone.

"What were you yammerin' about?" the crusty mechanic squawks, rounding a car in the repair bay and wiping her greasy hands on a rag.

"Work," he replies.

"Well, good thing you got a job 'cause your ride is gonna set you back," Peli puts her hands on her hips.

"What do you mean?" his blood pressure ticks upward. _What kind of astronomical bill is he walking into?_

"Had to rotate the tires, replace your brakes, as well as the carburetor, fuel hose and all your spark plugs, clean the rust from the undercarriage and recoat it, and fix your engine mounts - the only way your car could've been in any worse shape is if you'd been in a shoot-out and then rolled it into a ravine," she prattles off.

"How much?" he asks, wanting to rip off the bandage as fast as possible.

"Two-thousand six hundred and fifty five dollars for parts and labor," she folds her arms.

Din's pulse sputters. "Two thousand dollars?!" he chokes. _She always over-charged...but this...this..._

"Two-thousand six hundred and fifty five dollars to be exact," she corrects. "Hey, I know ya got an extra mouth to feed soon, but I gotta survive too. I even turned down business to get this done ASAP for ya."

 _She likes to play this game_ …

He keeps coming back to her because she always does a good job, even if she tries to milk him for all he's worth each and every time.

"Twenty three hundred," he counters.

"Twenty five hundred and fifty," she barely budges from the initial charge, but she at least budged. 

"Twenty four hundred," he wears his sternest face.

She glares at him, "Twenty five hundred - final offer, fireman." 

She always drove a hard bargain, but she was really going hard on him this time. It was still cheaper than buying a new car and she'd done some extensive repairs on very short-notice.

"Well? Did I just fix myself an old clanker to add to my collection or what?" she remarks.

"Deal," he huffs. _At least he got her down a little._ Thankfully, he had plenty in savings to cover it, but the enormous bill didn't sting any less. "Why'd you repair it before asking?" he grumps.

"You said, 'Make her safe and good as new by tomorrow, tonight if possible.' Plus, I knew ya were good for the money," she smirks.

He writes her the generous check and hands it over. 

She snatches it, skeptically eyeing it to validate the correct amount is there before handing him the keys. "Nice doing business. Oh and good luck with the kid," she nods. 

"Thanks Peli," he smirks and nods back. 

He loads and secures his motorcycle on his trailer for transport and then starts his newly tuned-up car. She purrs like brand new, and soon he's on his way to drop off the flatbed and bike at home and, more importantly, to pack dinner for his meeting tonight with Omera.

\---------------------------------

"I.G., I'll be back in thirty," Omera announces, looking at the clock which reads exactly 1900.

"Enjoy your date," he replies from his workstation with a sly smile.

_I.G. really knew everything._

She blushes and huffs a dismissive laugh, but she's indeed excited for her dinner-date with the handsome firefighter. After washing off the first-half of her shift from her hands, she's headed to the terrace, taking the winding hallway to the rear of the hospital. She exits and butterflies flutter in her stomach as she immediately spots him sitting at the same picnic table beneath the willow they'd used the other day. Kind brown eyes look up as she approaches and he quickly stands, the meadow behind him soft and golden in the late-day sun.

It's been years since she has felt this way, giddy and excited for the company of another. He stirs feelings within her that have long been dormant, forgotten. 

"Hey Din," she can't help but go in for a hug, heat spreading to her cheeks as his arms timidly wrap around her in a warm embrace. She doesn't need her stethoscope to hear just how quickly his heart is beating - hers is nearly as fast.

"I heard you liked this stew," his voice rumbles under her ear. She glances at the table behind him and he releases her.

"Oh wow, Din," she can barely contain the happiness, hand reaching to cover her mouth in surprise - he had the table all set with bread, fruit, and sparkling juice.

The biggest smile floods her face. 

"The soup might be a little cool. Kid's nurse let me use the breakroom microwave, but I got here a bit too early," he shyly smiles. 

“It looks great,” she reassures, sitting down at the table and he sits across from her.

"It's even better on day two in my opinion," he says, handing her the covered microwaveable bowl containing her portion.

"Thank you," she's so grateful for his kindness. Hungry, she opens the lid and takes a spoonful of the savory, spicy dish. "Mmmmm, you weren't kidding." It takes restraint not to eat it as fast as she can like she's used to doing at work - a case requiring all hands could come at any moment.

He smiles, taking his own bite and Omera'a eyes fixate upon his miraculously-healed nose, _which reminds her..._

"Your blood tests came back all normal," she reports.

His brown eyes twinkle, "That's good news, right?" 

"Yes," she hesitates, taking a bite.

"I sense a 'but'."

She meets his gaze. "Blood tests won't catch everything, but given you're experiencing no other symptoms, I'd say there is no indication for further diagnostics," she assesses.

"So I'm in the clear?" he sets down his spoon.

She pensively nods, "For now. Just let me know if you experience anything else abnormal." She really wanted to keep a close eye on him. She couldn’t lose anyone else close to her, especially not if it’s something she could prevent.

"Certainly," he nods.

"Sorry to take over the dinner conversation," she stirs her bowl, feeling badly for making him worry.

"Thank you for talking...I-I'm not always the best conversationalist," he says in his husky voice. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I enjoy your company,” she smiles, feeling a warmth rise in her face. 

“Me too,” he says.

Both reach at the same time for a slice of bread, their hands brushing against each other.

"Sorry," she blushes. "Guess I'm looking for any excuse to touch you, huh?" she says humorously to hide her embarrassment. 

"You don't need an excuse," he replies with a shy smile, handing her a thick slice of bread. 

“Thanks,” she huffs a nervous laugh and takes the slice. She dips it in her bowl then takes a bite, finding she's absolutely tongue-tied from his reply, but yearning even more to get closer to him, to his lean warmth and kind heart. 

"H-how would you like to go on a motorcycle ride tomorrow evening?" he breaks the silence. "It might be my last chance for a while with the kid coming home soon."

She looks up, heart soaring. "I'd love that," she smiles. 

"I can pick you up at seven at your place?" his brown eyes glimmer.

"It's a date," she smiles widely, unable to contain the excitement blossoming in her chest. Suddenly her pager buzzes. She grabs it from her waistband and reads the screen:

_STAT: Trauma team - Emergency Dept. Quarry accident, mult casualties inbound._

“I need to run,” she reluctantly informs, and takes one more bite of the delicious soup as she gets up. At least she ate most of the bowl. 

“I know how it goes,” he nods, standing up. 

_Of course he did_ , she smiles. _The exciting life of an emergency worker._

She quickly gives him a kiss on his stubbled cheek, “Thank you, Din.” Adrenaline revving, she turns and runs back to assist the incoming patients.

\----------------------------

After cleaning up the dinner-date, he goes to visit the child. His mind is still reeling about Omera as he sits down in the recliner, kid sitting on his lap.

_She agreed to a date. An actual date._

_He cannot believe it._

"Bah," the kid agrees then greedily grabs at the stack of books on the bedside table for Din to read.

"Storytime, right," he chuckles, adjusting the kid to be more comfortable. 

He grabs the child’s favorite book, the one about Star Wars. He pretty much has the lines memorized by now, and as he opens to the first page, half-daydreams about Omera and their plans tomorrow evening. 

_He wants to make it special..._

“Pfffffftttttt,” the kid raspberries, clearly impatient that Din’s storytelling has halted.

“Sorry kid," he huffs a laugh. "Mind’s a bit preoccupied.” 

“Yah,” the kid agrees.

He continues reading the book but his thoughts soon shift to the little one coming home with him. It's only a little over a day from now. He has almost everything set-up for the kid’s homecoming, save for the ample gifts currently surrounding them. He was especially thankful for the generous diaper and wet wipe donation after assisting in cleaning up the kid earlier today (and with significant encouragement and pointers from his bedside nurse). Once the kiddo is asleep, he’ll load all the gear in his car.

“Bah!” the kid points at the armored man on the page.

“K, kid,” he chuckles, continuing the story and the child snuggles closer. 

_He could get used to reading to the kid every night._ Then the thought of those nights being numbered makes his heart drop just a little. _He’d simply have to make as much as possible out of the time they had together._

\------------------------

It’s his last day at work before the kid comes home tomorrow. He had set up the remainder of the nursery with the gifts supplied by the nurses and even installed the carseat in his vehicle - he was completely squared away on that front. As he sits in the firetruck bay, his mind drifts to his beautiful date tonight: _Omera._

A rough clap on his back jolts him out of his thoughts.

“Heh heh - see the heart-eyes are still going strong, Djarin. That nurse really has you lovesick, huh?” Vizsla chortles.

Din gives a huff. 

“Have you seen her?” Koska chimes in from her perch on the bench. “She’s beautiful and incredibly kind. You’re just jealous, Vizsla.”

“No, I’m happy for him,” Paz returns to fidgeting with his bunker gear, “‘Bout damn time he finds someone… you aren’t getting any younger, Djarin.”

“Neither are you,” Koska smirks and Paz gives an indignant pout.

Their exchange makes Din chuckle to himself.

Karga comes walking into the bay. “Djarin, I have something I want to show you in the breakroom.”

Din looks up from his routine task of checking the portable air tanks and hoses, and the chief gestures with his arm for him to follow. 

_I wonder what this is about?_ he muses as he turns the corner into the breakroom.

“Congratulations!” the group within shouts. 

_He’s shocked._

There's cake and gifts on the table. Sheriff Dune, and fellow firefighters Bo, Axe, Fett, and Shand are even here. 

Koska and Paz come in behind and usher him forward.

“You know I’m just fostering the kid, right?” he looks around to the group.

“Things can happen. I bet if you wanted to adopt, they could make it so,” Fett stalks over and gives a pat on his shoulder. 

“We’d all vouch for you,” Shand smiles. 

Din feels overwhelmed by all the support - he's immensely thankful, but still feels undeserving. _It was all too generous._

“Let’s eat!” Paz announces and Koska agrees.

Cake is soon being passed around and his colleagues are nudging him to open the gifts.

It’s mostly diapers, blankets, little books, and stuffed animals - all things the kid will need and make good use of. 

“Thanks everyone,” Din addresses the group. 

“That’s not all,” Paz interjects. “We all pitched in on this one.” The larger man brings the arm behind his back forward to reveal the special gift and Din instantly smiles.

It’s a large toy fire truck wrapped in a bow - and it looks exactly like the Razor One fire engine in the bay.

Din chuckles in disbelief, “Thanks - he’ll love it.”

“You’re gonna be a great father,” Sheriff Dune nods.

“Cheers to that!” Fett agrees, raising his cup.

“Cheers!” the group choruses collectively.

While his colleagues demolish the cake, they chatter and ask to see photos of the little guy, which Din happily obliges with his cell phone. 

“What’s his name?” Bo asks. 

_Well this is always an awkward topic…_

Dune approaches, “Hey Djarin, can I have a word?”

He’s relieved for the temporary save, but worried what Cara might have to say. Din nods and excuses himself from the conversation with Bo.

Cara leads them to the corner where it’s quieter and more private.

“You find anything?” he asks, feeling pangs of anxiety in his chest. 

“Not exactly. Patrols haven’t spotted anything unusual. But there was a high profile hit-and-run that’s quickly turning into a cold case. I can’t say too much, but an eye witness described the vehicle involved the same as the ones you had run into.”

Din’s chest seizes, the act of breathing becoming impossible for a moment. 

“Why is it a cold case? There's a witness,” he furrows his brow.

“Well, the witness isn’t too reliable - a heroin junkie apparently...and, unfortunately, has since overdosed.”

_That news doesn’t make him feel any better._

"Seems like a real coincidence," he says, feeling uneasy.

She looks him in the eye, “I agree...look, I can't say anything more at this time. But Din, I’m going to do everything to keep the patrols running through the next couple days. However, if we don’t find anything concrete, I can’t justify using all these resources for much longer.”

Din nods, “I understand. Thank you for everything you’ve been doing.” _She had already really gone out on a limb for him and for that he was truly appreciative._

“Djarin!” the fire chief interrupts. “You haven’t had any cake yet - let’s change that.” He extends a plate with a large slice on it.

He doesn’t feel like eating, but accepts the slice anyway with a somewhat forced smile.

_He just wants to keep the kid safe._

\--------------------------------

She very much looks forward to their date tonight. 

She’s thankful Caben and Stoke are so great with last-minute planning and Winta was excited to eat over at their place as they were making her favorite meal of fruited waffles with whipped cream for dinner.

The ER has been steady and keeping her mind mostly occupied, which helps the time go by more quickly, but she still finds time to daydream about the handsomely scruffy firefighter with kissable...

“What is _that_ look for?” I.G. comes out of nowhere.

Broken from her wandering, sultry thoughts, she sheepishly smiles, looking down at her keyboard. 

“Firefighter Din Djarin?” he guesses correctly.

 _Busted! But seriously, how does he do that?_ she curiously squints at him with a grin.

“He asked me on a date,” she smiles.

“Omera, that is delightful news. In what activities will you two be engaging?” he asks, stepping closer and pulling up a seat.

“Tonight, he’s taking me on a motorcycle ride,” she smiles.

“Ah well, whatever kind of _ride_ you're going on, I don’t need to remind you about _protection_ ,” he says straight-faced.

“I.G.!" she reprimandingly squeaks, shooing him up from his seat. 

“I sincerely wish you two a pleasant evening,” I.G. winks as he walks away, and Omera laughs as her face heats up.

_Oh goodness, I.G._

She planned on only taking it as far as Din would like - she knew he was shy, and she’d never ever pressure him that way. She will, however, make good on her promise of a real, proper kiss - and that thought leaves her blissfully breathless. 

\---------------------------------

Dune had helped ease most of his fears before the party was interrupted by a fire call. She’d have a patrol in his neighborhood the day the kid came home. It was honestly more than he could hope for and he really owed her.

And currently he’s on his way to visit the rugrat before his date. He already has dessert and wine packed in his saddlebag along with a spare helmet for her, one he'd used when he was younger but still in great condition.

He soon arrives at Prairie Wind Hospital and parks his bike. After getting his visitor pass, he heads right up to the pediatric unit.

“Look who it is!” Nina the nurse smiles from behind the station. “He’s been looking for you.”

He feels a small sense of pride knowing the kid seemed to miss him. And now he feels guilty for having planned a date. He’ll make up for it this next week.

Entering the room, he finds the kid standing up, holding onto the crib rails like a little thief. A pint-sized thief that stole Din’s heart.

“Hiiiiiii,” the little runt giggles and waves at him.

“Hey kid,” he chuckles, setting his helmet on the bedside table. “I can only stay for a little bit.”

“Batoo,” the kid disagrees as Din plucks him from the crib.

“You come home with me tomorrow,” he smiles lovingly, looking into the skeptical, large curious eyes. “Then we’ll have lots of time together.”

The kid then coos and giggles, feeling Din’s five-o’clock shadow.

“He’s on track for discharge tomorrow at 9am,” Nina’s voice sounds behind him. “He’s finally satting consistently in the upper 90s and being more alert.”

He turns to her, holding the kid close. “What time should I arrive?”

“You can get here around 8:30 so we can go over the final discharge instructions - just basic stuff. He won’t be on any medications, which will make it a breeze,” she smiles.

“Booooo,” the kid says, pointing at the side table with the veritable library stacked upon it. 

“Book, yes,” Din turns to the chair.

“I’ll let you two relax,” the nurse smiles and leaves the room.

"Thank you," Din nods at her as he seats himself in the recliner and situates the kid to rest against him.

“Shall we read your favorite?” he asks.

“Yah,” the kid agrees, patting his cheeks with slobbery hands.

 _Lovely_ , he chuckles. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Yah,” the kid giggles.

“Alright, we got enough time for three stories,” he bargains.

“Bah.”

He reads the kid’s favorite story a couple times and part-way through the third book, the kiddo is drooling against his chest, asleep.

He lifts the little one to his bed and tucks him in. 

“See you tomorrow, kid,” he smiles, setting his frog plush next to him - the gift Omera had generously given him just a handful of days ago. 

He was thankful for her help and in awe of her kindness. Grabbing his helmet, he turns out the door and is off to see said nurse practitioner for their date tonight. 

\----------------------------------

“How do I look?” Omera asks, standing in front of her daughter in her date-night outfit.

Winta motions her to spin around, and with a dramatic flick of her braid, she obliges, twirling 360°. 

“Perfect!" Winta giggles. "He’s gonna want to kiss you right away." 

Omera laughs, face heating up. She decides to tickle her daughter for the cheeky comment. Leaping forward, she grasps her in her arms and aims for her sides. Winta squeals and shrieks in laughter, trying to evade her mother’s attack. Soon, both are out of breath, giggling and collapsed next to one another on the living room floor. 

“Alright," Omera catches her breath. "You done with your homework?” she asks, looking over to Winta who lays flat on her back, hair sprawled out.

“Yes,” she smiles sheepishly.

“Winta…,” Omera, demands the truth, knowing her daughter all too well. She sits up to urge a more truthful response.

“Ok, ok - I just have one page of math to finish and I promise I’ll finish it after dinner with Uncle Cab and Stoke,” she huffs with dramatic exasperation, covering her face.

“Alright, just make sure you bring it with you, sunflower." Omera glances at the wall clock. "You better get going though, it's almost 6:30."

Winta jumps up and Omera rises to her feet.

In a blink, her daughter hugs her, “Have a good time, Momma." Then she's off, grabbing her school bag and running out the front door to join the neighbors for dinner.

Omera smiles to herself, feeling so lucky to have such a good daughter, even if she can be a stinker sometimes. _It’s not like the apple had fallen too far from the tree..._

\-------------

_Here he is._

_Standing outside her door on Sanctuary Road._

He removes his helmet, clammy hands shaking, mouth impossibly dry. 

_Breathe._ He draws a trembling breath.

He knocks on her door as his heart pounds against his sternum. He's so excited to see her, but immensely nervous. 

_He doesn't want to screw this up._

A cacophony of self-deprecating thoughts sound in his mind in the seconds that somehow seem like an eternity before the door opens.

 _Omera._

She’s breathtaking - with her knee-high boots and canvas jacket, she looks more than ready for the ride.

“Hi Din,” she smiles a smile that shames the brightness of the summer sun.

He swallows hard, "Y-you look nice."

"So do you," she runs a hand over his leather jacket, stirring his heart into an even greater frenzy. She leans in and her lips press a gentle kiss to his cheek that nearly buckles his knees.

_Breathe._

He clears his throat as she steps back. "Ready for that ride?" he asks, offering his elbow for her to take.

"Definitely," she smiles, pulling the front door closed and hooking her arm in his.

They walk over to his bike and he reaches in his saddlebag for her helmet.

"This should fit you," he offers the head protection.

"Thanks," she smiles, releasing his arm and taking the helmet. Her face disappears behind the T-visor as she pulls it snugly over her head. He watches as her hands blindly search and fumble with the chin strap.

"May I?" he asks permission to assist.

"Please do," her muffled voice permits, lowering her hands. 

After double-checking the head fit, he adjusts the chin strap, careful not to catch her lovely skin as he buckles it. He gently runs a finger underneath to make sure it's not too tight on her neck, then gives it one last wiggle test before he's satisfied. 

"Looks good. How does it feel?" he studies her.

"Badass," she giggles, which makes him laugh too. Her hand gently rests on his bicep, and he can tell she’s looking him in the eyes despite her tinted visor, which makes his heart flutter. 

"Thank you," she says, voice bright with a smile - and although she looks great in the helmet, he finds himself missing that smile.

“Thank _you_ for coming along,” he smiles. "I hope you don't mind a scenic destination - only about twenty minutes out." He grabs and dons his own helmet.

"That’s perfect," she nods. 

He mounts the bike and without instruction, she slips behind him, automatically wrapping her arms around his chest, her front pressed firmly against his back.

 _Breathe_ , he reminds himself, feeling her every curve despite the layers between them and he struggles to rein in his haywire thoughts.

"Hang on," he warns as he knocks back the kickstand and she holds onto him tighter. Her trust in him makes his chest swell in spite of her constricting grip. To have her so near leaves him with electricity running through his nerve-endings. The engine roars as he revs the throttle, and in a moment, he shifts it into gear and they're off.

She holds on even tighter and her laughter is contagious, eliciting a few soft laughs from his own chest. He turns off Sanctuary Road back onto the main road, keeping their speed steady amongst the sparse evening traffic. Even though Omera’s arms remain firmly around him, her grip has considerably loosened - he takes it as her feeling more comfortable with the ride. 

“You doing ok?” he shouts above the sound of the wind and motor.

“Yes!” she excitedly yells back, “I love it!”

The biggest smile spreads on his face on account of her enthusiasm - she makes him feel so at ease yet so very alive. After hitting all greens on the three stop lights between them and their destination, he takes a right onto quiet Scenic Hwy 5 - it traverses a woodland nature reserve brimming with trails, but about eight miles down, it eventually connects to the gravel and sand-mining town of Tatooine.

She holds onto him tightly as they race through the stretch of grassland and toward the forest’s edge. The wind whips past as he picks up speed, trees growing taller and thicker as they take the gradually winding road. Even now beneath the thick shadowed canopy, it feels as though they're soaring.

The rushing earthen air, the enveloping forest, and the embrace of her arms around his chest soothe his weary soul. He hopes she’s having just as good of a time, but judging by her laughter as he currently accelerates on a straight stretch, she’s indeed enjoying the ride.

He keeps an eye out for deer and other creatures, being cautious not to take turns too quickly - he wanted this to be a safe adventure. After the large bridge over Krill River, he slows down as they approach their turn for the unmarked trail to the secluded glade. 

“Hold on, the path can get a little bumpy,” he warns as he gently turns the bike onto the narrow gravel road. Her grip tightens around him. His bike was by no means meant for off-roading, but it always handled this trail just fine and it was the quickest way to get to where he wants to take her.

Continuing through the thick woods at a much slower pace to navigate the uneven path, Din keeps an eye out for felled trees and other obstacles. Dark emerald fauna welcomes them deeper into the forest. 

“You still doing ok?” he raises his voice over the engine, which is merely a hum compared to the highway speed.

“Yes!” she replies and gives him a reassuring squeeze. He wishes he could see her face, but imagines she’s smiling brightly with how her voice sounds.

Wildflowers of pale blue and gold start speckling the sides of the dirt path and Din knows that soon they’ll pass over the mossy wood and iron bridge that sits faithfully above a steadily flowing stream - a popular fishing spot back in the day that’s since been long forgotten. 

After passing the bridge, the trees suddenly give way to a large open wildflower meadow, surrounded by mature trees. 

“Here we are,” he slows the bike and brings it down to a stop on the most-solid ground he can identify. He shuts down the engine and flips down the kickstand. With the noises of the bike quelled, grasshoppers and frogs sing loudly.

“That was so much fun,” she beams, hopping off.

He dismounts next, feeling relieved she approves of the date so far. “I’m glad you enjoyed it...hopefully the rest isn’t a let down,” he huffs a nervous laugh.

She removes her helmet, revealing her smiling face and then sets it on the bike. The beautiful woman steps closer, her eyes reaching beneath his visor, “I have a feeling the night is only going to get better,” she reaches, gently grasping either side of his helmet. Slowly, she lifts it upward.

 _Breathe,_ he reminds himself. Essentially blinded by the partly-raised helmet, he feels her lips ghost against his own, and his heart throttles, yet he’s paralyzed. She lifts it the rest of the way, her face flushed and incredibly close to his. 

_Nothing else exists - it’s just him and her._

The paralysis breaks, and he leans in, capturing her lips with his, his arms reflexively wrap around her, pulling her close. Her hands find their way to his jaw, guiding him even closer. Her lips dance over his in a rhythm he tries to compliment - he has no real idea what he’s doing, but it feels right...until his lungs start to burn.

He breaks away, gasping, having completely forgotten to breathe during the little session.

“Din, you ok?” she asks, freehand still cupping his jaw as she breathes heavily herself, but not as severely as him. 

“Uhuh,” he dopily nods, a bit embarrassed. _He’s more than ok._ “Forgot to breathe.” 

She chuckles, “Let’s pick up on that later.” With a gentle kiss to his cheek, her hand glides down from his neck to his chest before she turns away to set his helmet next to hers on the seat.

He’s paralyzed again, absolutely dizzy in her intoxicating presence and from the lack of oxygen. 

As he works on catching his breath, he watches her every movement, her dark brown eyes sweeping over the scenery as she walks toward the knee-high grass. “Din, this is beautiful. How do you know about this place?” she turns to him.

He smiles, incredibly happy she approves and goes to join her side, “As a kid, my parents would take me hiking here,” he gestures back toward the path. “Still come here every now and then to clear my head - I’ll admit, the bike is a sort of cheating.”

She softly smiles, endearing dimples adorning her face. “I can see why - it’s so peaceful.” Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes, as if absorbing the contented energy around her.

“It is,” he inhales the late summer air, perfumed by the wild sunflowers and geraniums of the meadow - a scent that brings him back to less lonely times. “You think the kid would like it here?” he asks.

She draws a little closer, “Yes - I think he'd love it. Winta would too - she’d love all the sunflowers,” she glances out at the wildflower glade.

“Maybe we can try an actual hike sometime - all together?” he offers.

“Nothing would make me happier,” she smiles, leaning her head against his shoulder, which sends butterflies loose within his ribcage.

“Well, speaking of happiness," he clears his throat, "what do you say about cheesecake and wine?"

"I didn't think this date could get any better, but here you are proving me wrong," she chuckles. "Can I help?"

He walks over to unpack the dessert from the saddlebag.

“You can help me pick out a spot to sit,” he gestures with his head as he stuffs the blanket under his arm and balances the bottle, dessert, and utensils in his hands.

“Here, I can take the blanket,” she reaches and takes the old rolled up fabric from under his arm. 

“Thanks,” he looks at her, feeling warm all over, and nods. 

She glances around for a few moments, surveying her options, then points to a clear spot at the edge of the tall grasses about thirty feet away. “There looks nice.”

He nods, drinking in her vision as she walks over and unfurls the blanket to make their spot. Before sitting down, she removes her jacket, which reveals a form-fitting grey shirt.

His heart seizes and he averts his gaze for a moment to collect his composure. Swallowing nervously, he eases down next to her, and arranges the refreshments between them. He grabs the bottle and pulls out his pocket knife to uncork it.

“Cabernet - I read somewhere it’s supposed to go well with cheesecake,” he pops the cork.

“Wow - I’m sold,” she smiles brightly as he pours it into the lackluster tin mugs he had brought along.

“Glass is tricky in the saddlebags,” he apologizes for the unconventional cups.

“I think it’s perfect,” she graciously accepts the libation.

He pours himself a small mugful to limit himself so he can safely drive back. 

“Now for the good part,” he opens the container, revealing two slices of New York-style cheesecake which appear to have survived the ride mostly unscathed. He then hands her a fork.

"Did you make this?" she asks, an air of astonishment to her voice as she digs in.

"Pressure cooker makes it easy," he shrugs.

She takes a bite and her eyes close, "Mmmmmm, so good…Where have you been all my life?" her eyes open again and meet his. 

He chuckles. _He wasn’t a regretful man in the least, but he finds himself wishing their paths had crossed sooner._

“Seriously, you’re a handsome, culinarily skilled firefighter, if not a little accident-prone,” she teases. 

“I don’t know how I hadn’t shown up at your ER sooner,” he laughs, finally taking a bite of the velvety-rich dessert. _Most of his prior accidents had required nothing more than EMT assistance._

She chuckles.

As they enjoy the wine and dessert, Omera does most of the talking, recounting their first meeting.

“You know, not to be cliche, but I _might_ have a thing for your uniform,” she blushes and giggles, covering her face. “Phew, this wine is strong.”

He laughs, feeling a warmth spread over his own skin, but his own liquid courage is kicking in. “Yeah, you like the bunker gear?” he eggs her on.

She takes another bite of cheesecake and holds her hand over her mouth, “Mhhhhmm.” She swallows and laughs. “Especially the suspenders.”

“Suspenders huh?” he cocks his head with a shy smile. “Never would have guessed,” he chuckles. She’s incredibly adorable in this moment, seeing a side of her he hadn’t before.

“Uhuh,” she smiles, taking another sip of wine and chuckling. “Well, now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself,” she sets down her mug, “do you think a kiss would make you forget the last couple minutes?”

He gazes into her eyes, “I don’t want to forget a second with you.” He sets down his drink as she moves closer until she’s kneeling right in front of his lap. 

\---------------------------

“I don’t want to spend a moment longer not kissing you,” she admits softly, reaching to cradle his handsome face in her hands. She leans in and devours his soft lips. His mustache and five o’clock shadow prickle delightfully against her skin and her hands trail from his face, down to his leather jacket.

“Can I take off your jacket?” she asks against his lips.

He nods, and they start kissing again. Blindly, she slowly unzips the front, and once open her hands seek the warm expanse of his firm torso covered by the thin fabric of his shirt. Quivering muscles beneath speak of the strength he carries and it only fuels her passion for him, feeding the fire in her belly. As she runs her hand over his ribs for greater purchase, she catches on a small rough piece of something. 

_Huh? What is that?_

Pulling away from the heated kiss, she looks down and plucks it off, holding it up to study. 

_Is that...a Cheerio?_

He snuffs a laugh, "Visited the kid just before picking you up." 

She snorts, freeing it into the grass for nature to feast upon. "You're a true parent now,” she giggles. “Let me check you for more - they usually come in pairs," she laughs, playfully running her hands over his soft black T-shirt again, definitely not an excuse to feel his muscles. 

He chuckles, raising a brow, “Am I clear?” 

Her laughter fades into a smile as she gazes into his handsome brown eyes - eyes which draw her even closer to him, and this time she situates between his open legs. “I think I need to keep checking, just to be sure,” she says softly, eyes falling to his kiss-reddened lips. Slipping her hands under the shoulders of his jacket, she helps it down his broad shoulders and he lets it off the rest of the way.

Her hands sweep up his firm chest and to his stubbled jaw, the scent of cedar and musk radiating from his heated skin. She leans in, nose brushing against his. Under her touch, she feels his pulse racing, skin burning - she’s just as fevered.

Her lips slowly take his again, pressure and rhythm crescendoing. She cradles the back of his head, fingers carding and grabbing gently at his thick dark hair. Suddenly, the center of balance teeters and he falls over on his back and she follows, falling right atop him.

_Oof._

“You ok?” she giggles breathlessly, looking into his eyes, hands on his heaving chest.

“Yes,” he nods, his warm hurried breath fanning over her cheek. “You?” 

“I’m more than ok,” she smiles, her eyes fall back to his pouty lips. “May I keep kissing you?” she hushes.

“Yes,” he pleads.

Her eyes close, sense of touch heightened, she feels his hands finding the back of her braided hair, pulling her in and her vellus hairs stand on end. Her senses are drowned in the intoxicating sensation of his soft lips and tongue in contrast to the prickling-yet-pleasant burn of his facial hair. He tastes multitudes sweeter than she ever could have imagined and he's gentler than she anticipated, his firm muscles latent and reverent beneath her.

She feels his hand trail down her spine to the small of her back. Her hips instinctively shift over his and it's not lost on her how his posture tightens and goes rigid immediately at the contact. He freezes.

She pulls back from their kiss, looking down at him, "Din, you ok?"

He nods, catching his breath, "Yes...but can we slow down?”

“Of course,” she caresses his face, catching her own breath. She feels a bit inconsiderate for having tested the boundaries in the first place. He was so just so very handsome and kind, she couldn't help her attraction and got lost in her passion. The wine also had her inhibitions curbed.

“I’m sorry,” he hushes into her face, hands still splayed firmly upon her back. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about...I got a little caught up,” she looks into his widely-dilated eyes. "I should have asked."

His hand travels up her back and caresses the nape of her neck. "No...it's just...I-I just haven’t gone there for awhile…,” he takes a breath, looking down at her lips. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” his hand falls to her cheek as their eyes connect. “Trust me, I _do_ . I _really_ do. I just need a little time.” 

She rubs her thumb over the back of his hand and smiles. “We can take it at whatever pace is comfortable," she reassures softly, hand falling from his to hold his face, “I’m just happy to be here with you, Din.”

He exhales in what looks to be relief, “Thank you.”

“Thank you for saying something…I know we just met," she looks into his eyes, "but I care about you so much."

He meekly smiles. “I care about you more than I thought was possible, Omera,” he says, voice raw and genuine.

_Oh Din._

“Would it be ok if I lay next to you?” she asks, searching his eyes.

He nods with a soft smile. Making sure the dessert and wine are out of the way, she lowers down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. His arm wraps around her back and holds her safely away from all harm. As they cuddle, his anxious heartbeat gradually tapers to a content rhythm, the blue sky above them slowly being engulfed by a fiery sunset. 

He cranes his head, pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to her forehead. It makes her swoon and she kisses his kind heart in return. Relaxing together, she aimlessly traces patterns on his shirt, and he almost seems to purr beneath her, chest rising and falling like the swell of the meadow grass in the breeze. 

It's peaceful - she's so content just to lay there in his protective embrace. _She could drift asleep..._

“You know,” his voice softly rumbles under her ear, bringing her back from the heavy space between wakefulness and sleep. 

"Hmmm?" she murmurs.

“I might have a thing for your uniform too,” he says, breaking the static noise of crickets and frogs.

A smile of curiosity grows on her face, “Yeah?” 

“Mmmmmmm," he mumbles in contemplation, then takes a breath. "It’s more of the color...the teal...It’s calming, healing - compliments you.”

She smiles at his kind words. “It’s my favorite color,” she says, snuggling in closer and resting her hand over his warm chest.

“I’ve been wanting to hold you like this since our first date in your neighbors' backyard,” he admits, wrapping his arms even more firmly around her and she melts into him farther, never wanting this moment to end.

\-----------------------------------

After nearly falling asleep again, the twilight of the sky tells them it’s time to head back, although neither of them really wants to leave the small slice of sanctuary they’ve found there in the meadow.

She helps him pack up, and he recorks the wine, making sure to place it in the farthest saddlebag well out of reach so it’s not considered an issue if they were to be pulled over.

"You excited for tomorrow?" she asks.

He smiles, feeling his heart swell a little larger. "Yes, very." He buckles the side-bag shut.

"He's going to be very happy," she smiles, handing him the neatly rolled blanket.

"Thanks to all of your help," he looks at her with grateful eyes, stowing away the blankets. Then he glances out to the dimly-lit meadow, remembering something she'd said earlier. He walks over to the grass' edge and takes out his pocket knife. Grabbing a sunflower stalk, he strikes the blade swiftly and neatly through.

He turns back to her, pocketing the knife. "For Winta," he offers the large yellow bloom to her.

"Din, she'll love it," Omera accepts it with a vibrant smile, features still alight enough to see the gratitude on her face which makes something beneath his sternum warm. He knows her daughter means the world to her, and Din is just starting to understand that bond now that he has the kid in his life.

After putting on their helmets, they mount his bike again.

"Ready?" he asks, kicking back the kickstand.

She holds on tighter, "Ready." 

He starts the engine, flips on the headlight, and they take the dirt path back to Scenic Hwy 5. Fireflies light the edges of the forest-darkened roadway as daylight loses its hold on the sky. With her arms around him again, the way back goes much too quickly for Din's liking and before he knows it, he's pulling up to her house.

He steadies the bike at the end of her streetlight-lit driveway and kills the engine.

“I’d like to do that again sometime,” she says, releasing him to dismount the motorcycle.

“Me too,” he smiles, wanting to do it again as soon as possible, but he knows nights like this will prove trickier once the kid comes home. He removes his helmet and steps off the bike to say a proper goodbye.

She removes her helmet, which she hands back to him and he hands her the sunflower from the side-bag in return. 

“Thank you for the ‘real’ kiss," he smiles shyly, skin burning again at the thought of earlier.

She gently turns the flower in her hands and smiles. “Perhaps we can do it again sometime soon,” she says in a low voice that has his blood rushing again. She then leans up, giving him a soft kiss on the lips that makes his knees weak and his arms automatically wrap around her.

“Thank you for tonight, Din,” she says in his ear before kissing his cheek. She rests back and looks into his eyes. “If you need any help tomorrow, I’m free.”

“Thank you,” he smiles, astounded by her generosity.

Releasing his embrace, he watches as she walks over to the nextdoor neighbors' to pick up her daughter. She turns and waves just before the front door opens, and the friendly couple soon spots him and waves back too.

He feels his skin heat up at the attention and takes it as his cue to leave so no more of a fuss is made. Pulling on his helmet and mounting his ride, he takes a deep breath and then starts the engine. He looks over to see her one last time, but she has already disappeared inside. 

_He misses her already._ But tonight will be one he'll never forget.

\--------------

“Soooo, how was the date?” Caben asks.

“You two were gone long enough,” Stoke teases, waggling his eyebrows.

She laughs, her face rapidly heating. “It was nice - we had wine and cheesecake and in this rural meadow,” she turns the sunflower around in her hands, reliving their date in her head, mind beelining to the steamier parts.

“Wine and cheesecake in a majestic locale? You need to put a ring on that man like yesterday…that or I will,” Caben chuckles.

“Hey,” Stoke laughs, playfully nudging his partner.

She chuckles. _Despite the teasing, she seriously finds she can't imagine a future without Din..._

“Momma!” Winta's voice cuts through the air from another room. “I was just finishing up my homework!” 

Omera turns to the voice. “Hey sunflower,” she greets her sugared-up daughter who runs around the corner with her homework in hand, and she holds out the flower.

Winta's eyes widen at the large yellow petals. “Woah!” she immediately takes it in her hands. "It's HUGE and I love it! Thank you!"

"Din found it," she smiles at her daughter.

"Din knows how to get my approval," the girl too smart for her age replies.

Omera, Caben and Stoke all laugh.

"Alright, let's let Uncles get some rest," she says to Winta, then turns back to her generous neighbors. “Thank you again for watching Winta.”

“Anytime, Omera,” they almost say in unison, which makes her smile. She was lucky to have such wonderful friends.

After Winta fetches her backpack, they exit the front door and enter the night air, waving a goodbye.

"How'd your date go? Did ya kiss him?" Winta asks point-blank as they reach their driveway.

She chuckles, figuring not tip-toeing around the truth was the best, "Yes, yes I did." 

"Oooooooo!" Winta jumps around all excitedly, making smooching noises.

Omera laughs, half-heartedly shushing her gleeful, teasing daughter as she unlocks their front door. They go inside and Winta quiets down but soon the barrage of excited questions start up: "Where did you go?"; "Was the motorcycle ride fun?"; "How fast did you go?"; "Can I ride on the motorcycle?"

The answer to the last question was a little harder - Din is clearly a very safe driver and she felt safe with him, but the risk isn't something she necessarily wanted to expose her daughter to. So her answer came out as a "maybe" and only if Din was ok with it. Thankfully, it satisfied Winta.

They get ready for bed, brushing teeth, combing hair, and switching to pajamas. After the night routine is done, Omera places the fresh sunflower in a vase and brings it to Winta's nightstand.

“I’m happy for you, momma - he’s a good guy,” her daughter says as Omera sets the happy flower at her bedside.

"He's a nice man," she smiles upon her sweet girl, kissing her forehead. “Goodnight, my sunflower.”

"Night, momma."

Omera shuts off the bedside lamp and turns to her bedroom. Soon she's comfortably under the covers and dozing off into dreams that will be filled with _him._

\--------------

_Thursday._

_It's here._

_The kid comes home with him..._ **_today_** _._

_And he almost can't believe it._

The early-morning hours rush by in a blur as he starts another stew for dinner and double-checks that the kid’s room is all in order. Once done with the house, his attention goes to the car, ensuring that the car seat is still in-fact properly secured in place. He checks a third and a fourth time. 

He takes a deep breath. _This is happening._

At 8:15 am, he finds himself up on the pediatric unit just a little early so that he doesn’t delay the discharge. Streamers of all colors are running from the ceiling and hanging off the central nursing station.

_This can't be for the kid, is it?_

"Today is the big day!” one of the nurses announces excitedly.

He nods, heart rate already climbing. He’s nervous, but also indescribably happy. He just wants the best for the kid and will do his damnedest to ensure it.

He enters the room for the _final_ time. “Hey kid,” he smiles.

“Hiiiii!” the kid squeals, seemingly knowing something is up. Din picks him up from the crib and little hands latch onto his shirt.

"Missed you too," he smiles at the large dark eyes and the kid seems to hug him. His heart evaporates right then and there.

"Ready to go over the discharge instructions?" the nurse asks. 

"Yes," Din replies anxiously.

They review basic toddler care, such as safe sleeping, diet, diaper changing, potty training, skin care, basic first aid - all the information makes his head spin, despite having reviewed it all before during the kid’s admission. 

“A child specialist from the county will be visiting for daily check-ins at noon, or another time if your work schedule doesn’t allow - this will start tomorrow. They are also a resource. Here is their contact information,” the nurse hands him the paperwork.

“Thank you,” he barely glances at it, wondering how much more information is left to review.

“Booo-ap. Booo-ap,” the kid announces - he seems antsy as well.

“Alright, we’re all done,” the nurse smiles and pats her thighs.

_We are?_

“You are free to go,” she nods. "He is now in your care."

"Thank you," he nods, as a surreal feeling washes over him. He looks down to the little life now completely reliant upon him.

"Hiiiii," the kid replies, reaching to his face and giggling.

For some reason, tears sting his eyes and his heart clenches hard. 

_This is finally happening._

After grabbing the kid's frog plush and blanket, and with discharge papers tucked under his arm, they exit the room, only to be greeted by waving and cheering nurses. Soon the happy bunch are approaching, giving hugs and some are even tearing up. 

Din feels a bit overwhelmed by all the attention, but knows it all comes from a kind place.

Nina, Omera’s former ER colleague approaches. “You can't leave without this,” she holds out a copy of the kid’s favorite book.

A warmth bleeds beneath his chest. “Wow - thank you,” he nods as she helps place it under his arm alongside the discharge papers. 

"We all signed it," she adds, and he's incredibly touched by the gesture. _The kid truly loves that book and now the names of all those who helped him recuperate are forever inside._

He turns to the small crowd, feeling immense gratitude - his heart has never felt so large and vulnerable as it does in this moment, “Thank you for taking such good care of the kid.” 

"And you're going to do an even better job," one of them says, which makes him smile because despite his best efforts, that would be unlikely.

“Now get outta here,” the male nurse gestures him to move onward.

“But visit anytime!” another shouts.

He smiles to himself and waves to the kind group as he and the kid wait for the elevator. 

“Ready to go home, you little rugrat?” he asks the large dark eyes staring up at him.

The kid curiously tilts his head, “Bwaah.” 

They exit the elevator and pass through the fairly quiet ER. Lo and behold, the eccentric I.G. appears behind the reception desk, waving as they exit the hospital.

Din nods and gives a short wave. _He’d kind of miss running into that odd man daily. He was, however, grateful that Omera had such a kind colleague._

Just as they pass into the bright sun, the kid giggles and holds onto Din tighter. He thinks the rugrat finally realizes what’s happening when they make their way to the car and he opens the backdoor. 

"Yaaahh!!" the kid gleefully announces.

“Yeah, you’ve served your sentence,” Din teases the infant, setting him in the car seat.

“Pffffftttttt,” the kid raspberries back and the firefighter-turned-dad chuckles as he buckles the adorable little gremlin in and hands him his stuffed animal and blanket to teeth on. He sets the discharge papers and book on the seat next to him.

Din then double and triple-checks that the car seat is fastened properly and grins at the kid, whose curious wide-eyes dance around and toward the shiny dashboard controls.

"Lots to see, huh kid?" he huffs a laugh. Din then turns and takes one last look at Prairie Wind Hospital, smiling fondly. _So many life-changing events had occurred there in the past week...it seemed like both a lifetime ago and also just yesterday when he had rode in with the little one in the back of the ambulance._

“Patooo!” the kid impatiently announces, pulling him from his recollections.

He chuckles, “Alright kid, let’s get going.” 

Soon he’s behind the wheel and shuts the door. Once buckled himself, he glances back at the kid one last time - he’s surprised to find the book within the kid’s grasp.

“Hey, how’d you get that?” he asks

_The book had been well out of reach, hadn’t it?_

The kid only giggles in reply.

 _Must have bumped it closer to the kid when checking the car set_ , he rationalizes.

Din huffs a laugh of disbelief and shrugs before starting the engine. And just like that they’re off, venturing homeward. 

_They were finally going home._

_._

_._

_._

As he accelerates, the discharge papers behind him shift from the forward momentum, fanning out to reveal the county child specialist’s name:

_Dr. Percy Pershing_

The child then turns to the page of the book in which there’s a studious man wearing a stark uniform and round glasses who stands amidst various sci-fi medical equipment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! That was another long one (: Thank you for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed it - it took a lot of short little writing sessions to make it happen as my worklife has been busier. I hope it was worth the wait!! Work is still busy, but I plan that the next chapter will be out sometime by the end of March.
> 
> -> In the meantime, I have a short little Valentine’s Day special for this AU series to be released around V-day. Its title is “The Suspenders” and will be posted in a Part 2 of this series since it will be chronologically in the future to this chapter. (Yes, Omera is gonna live her dreams.)
> 
> [[Side Note: Din's birthdate, November 12th, is the air-date of The Mandalorian Season 1 premiere 🥰 Kind of a birthday, right?]]

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on this being a miniseries - I work in the ICU and COVID is taking a lot of my time, but I hope to get updates out monthly!
> 
> Thank you SO much for reading!! I really appreciate it (:


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